Secrets and Shadows
by SelDear
Summary: Secrets and shadows threaten to tear SG-1 apart, but they also have the potential to pull them together. UPDATED 16th Dec!
1. The Thin Blue Line 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: My genfic 'Hostage Situation' is a prequel to this story. It is not necessary to have read 'HS', however it will help with some minor references. In timeline, we went AU before the Season 8 episode 'New Order' and everything that has happened since then is not included in these pages.

Please note, this story contains very strong Sam/Jack UST; if that is not your cup of tea, then pleased don't read the story and then whinge about it containing S/J.

**Secrets and Shadows: ****The Thin Blue Line**

**Part One**

The line between her future as she imagined it and her future as it lay before her was thin and blue. Blue like the sky she'd longed to fly in as a child. Blue like the event horizon of a wormhole. Blue like her eyes, like the eyes of the child she carried, even now, in her womb.

Beneath her thighs, the porcelain rim of the bath was cold as her insides, chattering with the ice, shattering with the fear and terror of the unknown and the unsought. This wasn't happening to her. This _couldn't_ be happening to her.

The thin blue line said otherwise.

Major Samantha Carter took one slow deep breath and exhaled, shuddering.

Two months ago, she might have been overjoyed by the news. Two months ago, she would have raced to get her cellphone and call him, certain in the knowledge that all the possibilities of the universe had just been dropped in her lap with a smile and a laugh.

That was then, this was now.

Two months ago, she'd still been dating Pete Shanahan.

The cylinder was dropped into the sink, and she wandered out of the bathroom, not even washing her hands. Such small things were beyond her at this moment, the nadir of so many hopes and dreams, the uncertainties laid out before her in immeasurable number.

It had to be a mistake.

She remembered the cold swabbing of the sterilisation pad, the prick and ache of the needle in her arm, the momentary pressure as the plunger sank and delivered its measure of sterility to her body. It had been recent. Recent enough for her to recall it. No. It was a mistake. It _had_ to be a mistake.

Something in her screamed that it wasn't. Something in her screamed that it was.

Around her, the world was hazy, indistinct. Was that the shock of what had happened, or the tears that were welling in her eyes?

Sam didn't know until she drifted out to the main area where she'd dumped her bag and coat, and the gleam of silver foil beneath a brown and silver wrapper caught her eye. Then they were tears.

"_I got something for you. Just to keep you going for the next few hours._" He'd seemed so tentative, so uncertain that she wouldn't snap back at him, push him away, reject his gift.

She'd smiled at him because she couldn't help it - she never could. And the response she'd gotten had been something like relief at her response, a slow easing of his expression into a smile. "_You'll do great, I just know it._" His confidence had sparkled within her, like crystal shot through with light, refracting into a thousand beautiful glints that twinkled and spun miniature rainbows. Moments like those, Sam felt she could do anything on the confidence he gave her.

Sam dropped heavily into one of the dining room tables and listened to the pulse of her terrified heart and the tick-tick-ticking of the clock on the wall.

Her fingers pressed lightly down on the surface of the Hershey Bar, feeling the division of the chocolate squares beneath paper and foil wrapping.

This changed everything.

----

The call surprised him.

"Sir? I...I need you to come around. Now."

He blinked at that. She never invited him around without stating the concrete and necessary reason; it just wasn't the done thing between them. And he could hear the strain in her voice, even over the phone. "Okay." He paused, wondering if he should ask. _Oh, what the hell_. "You want I should bring anything?"

"N...no. Sir." There was a definite hesitation between the two words. "Just...soon."

"I'll be right there."

He switched off his cellphone and grabbed for his jacket, wallet, and keys. He knew Carter, and right now, she was at the end of her tether. A little voice unkindly pointed out that she'd have to be at the end of her tether to call him up and ask him to come around. Something had to be very wrong.

As Jack climbed into his truck, he supposed that whatever this something was, it had been wrong for a while.

He'd noticed Carter's distraction of the last few days. He'd almost brought it up before he decided it was none of his business. It was fairly clear that it was personal stuff, and her personal life was not his business. She'd taken it out of the realm of ever being his business when she'd started dating Shanahan, and although she'd left the guy since, there was still an element of distance between her and the man who was her commanding officer. Which was the way it was supposed to be.

Maybe that was why he'd given her the chocolate.

The chocolate tradition hailed back to the earliest days of SG-1. Barely two months into their stint as SG-1, Daniel had noted Carter's monthly terseness and taken steps to alleviate any discomfort through the judicious application of chocolate. It began there and Carter accepted it with a thankyou, but had otherwise never referred to her team-mates' gifts. Not until she started dating Shanahan. Then, she'd asked Daniel if the presents could stop since they made Shanahan uncomfortable.

Daniel hadn't understood that. "_Isn't that his problem rather than Sam's?_" He'd demanded of Jack. "_We've been doing this for years. It doesn't mean anything the way he thinks it does..._"

Jack drove along the streets of Colorado Springs, mapping the way to Carter's house in his mind, trying to remember which road he should take. It had been long enough between visits for him to forget the way. Slowly, it came back to him, but only as he needed it. He paused at a four-way stop and tried to remember whether he went left or right at this street. He guessed right; in more ways than one.

At her house, things seemed much the same as ever. Neat yard, neat lawn, blinds down, gate closed. A pretty house, functional but unwelcoming; Carter at her professional best.

Jack felt ashamed of the instinctive comparison. Carter at her professional best was brilliant, not merely functional. Although, the unkind voice retorted, she was always unwelcoming to him - at least in her personal life.

She opened the door, and he was struck by how tired she looked out in the clear light of day. Within the mountain, the artificial light failed to illuminate delicate lines of weariness from her face. The sunlight had no such qualms.

"Carter?" Jack regarded her with concern. "You okay?"

Her smile was wan, without its customary brilliance. "Please come in, sir." He noticed she didn't answer the question.

The place was mostly neat. Mostly. The dining table looked cluttered with...was that a medical record? Jack leaned over a little as she asked, "Did you want something to drink?"

"Uh, soda would be good - as long as it's not diet." The medical record was for Major Samantha Carter, and when he glanced at her for permission to flip it open, he found her watching him with open eyes but a closed expression. The silence stretched long, like soft taffy between small, sticky hands. "Carter?"

Her eyes dropped to the table, and his eyes followed and came to rest on a small cylinder of plastic and chemicals, marked by a thin blue line in a window. The bottom dropped out of his stomach, and yet he had this sudden urge to run for the bathroom and expel the hotdog he'd had for lunch.

Paper rustled as he flipped open the report, and laid his finger down on the top sheet. It was a gynacology report for Major Samantha Carter, performed by the base Doctor a few days ago. It confirmed what the pregnancy test said, although with long words rather than a short coloured line.

Carter was pregnant.

He flipped the report closed, and let his hands rest very lightly on the table, because if he didn't let them rest lightly on the table, he might clench them into fists.

Carter was pregnant.

It shouldn't have happened. A part of him knew that. Carter - like every other woman employed on the base - was given contraceptive shots on a regular basis. The shots were part of the regular medical check-ups and couldn't be escaped. And while Jack knew quite well that contraception was never 100 foolproof, the margin of error was so minor...

Carter was pregnant.

Jack caught hold of the jealousy that surged up into him, forcing it under his control and knowing that his face betrayed nothing more than a sudden stiffness. He had no right to be jealous, only the right to be concerned as the friend she thought him to be. But the pain inside was worse than that moment of realisation that Carter had moved on from the possibilities that might have been between them. Logically, her actions had made perfect sense; emotionally, all Jack could feel was that the woman he cared about was finding love somewhere else and it hurt.

When a man was cornered, his instincts always overrode his reason.

"So," he said, quietly, lifting his face to meet her gaze. "When's it due?" He didn't ask whose it was, because the answer was obvious. He didn't ask whether she was happy, because that answer was obvious, too. Instead, he worked on controlling his reaction to the thought of her carrying another man's child and doing what she'd obviously asked him here to do; give counsel on her options.

"Late January," she said. Her usually clear voice was husky with the tears she'd cried before he'd arrived. "I'm...I want to keep it."

_Then why are you talking to _me_ about this?_ The little voice growled in his head, but the words didn't pass his lips. It wasn't much of a surprise to find that Carter wanted to keep it. She was a far cry from old, but she wasn't young either. Both conception and pregnancy became harder on a woman the older she got. Jack remembered fretting about Sara's health during her pregnancy with Charlie, and she'd almost been thirty at the time.

Then he remembered Sara telling him about her pregnancy and how she'd confessed she almost hadn't. His hands twitched slightly Even now, years later, anger rose at the thought that something so precious might have been denied him simply because Sara had been having second thoughts about their relationship at the time.

He glanced up. Carter was still waiting for his response. When the moments passed and she received nothing, he watched as she braced her hands on the bench. "Sir, this will change things on SG-1..."

"Yeah," he murmured. She wouldn't want to go through the Stargate as long as she was pregnant - not unless it was absolutely necessary. And that was just for starters.

Equal opportunity meant Carter could take maternity leave and come back to her position at the end of it. Considering her role within the SGC, retraining would probably be minimal, and she could always take up a lab job like so many other officers within the program.

He kept watching her, unabashedly cataloguing every line of her face, every curve of her body. She looked pale, even for her. Jack knew he should ask her to sit down, take the strain off her feet. He should offer to help, take the burden from her spirit. But as he looked at her, Jack felt his heart twist in his chest and it wasn't because he was her commanding officer.

There were times when being a man who stood by his honour sucked. This was one of them. And he had to know what she was going to do, in both a personal and professional capacity.

So he asked the question that wrung him dry with a jealousy for what he would never have.

"What are you going to tell Shanahan?"

----

**CHARACTER NOTES:** For the character of Pete Shanahan, I extrapolated on the base of what the writers of the show gave us in the Season 7 episode 'Chimera' (obsessive, paranoid, manipulative, and inept) and simply haven't smoothed everything over with a 'no harm, no foul' at the end.


	2. The Thin Blue Line 2

**Secrets and Shadows: ****The Thin Blue Line**

**Part Two**

"So," Daniel said, looking up from the pregnancy test and its pronouncement. "What now?" He'd already said his congratulations, all the while wondering if they were appropriate, given how Sam had put on her 'locked away' face and how Jack looked as though he wanted to hit something.

Daniel made a mental note not to cross Jack in the next few days. This had to hurt, at least a little.

"I'll be leaving SG-1."

One look at Teal'c showed him to be nodding his head as though the news was expected. Daniel supposed it was; Stargate travel exerted tremendous stress on the body, and while they'd sent pregnant women through the wormhole before - to the Alpha site during SGC evacuation scenarios - regular travel through the Stargate while pregnant would be asking for a miscarriage. Daniel was pretty sure Sam didn't want that.

Still...

"Is that necessary? I mean, that drastic? You could just be seconded to the labs for a while, not completely leave..."

"Daniel," she said gently, "I'm leaving the military entirely."

_That_ was a shock. "Resigning? Why?" The SGC was her career and she loved it, Daniel knew she did, it was plain to see.

Her gaze was fixed on her hands, clasped tightly before her; she didn't look at any of her team-mates seated around her dining table. Glasses of water littered the table, untouched, and the medical report and the pregnancy test sat squarely in the midst of them.

"Because I want to bring up my own child, Daniel," she said quietly. There was no elaboration on her reasons for doing so, although Daniel suspected it might be related to Jacob's extended absences through the years.

"And that's it?"

"What more do you want, Daniel?" Jack demanded, a little more sharply than Daniel would have expected.

"I don't want more," Daniel said, irritated with Jack's aggression. "After seven years I kind of feel as though we should at least get to know why she's decided she's going to give up the SGC and everything in it that she loves..."

"I'm not going to leave the SGC," Sam interrupted him. "I'm resigning from the military."

"You could work at the SGC without being in the military?"

"You do."

"But I've never been in the military," Daniel pointed out. "It's never been an issue for me..."

"Daniel, this isn't about being in the military or not." Sam caught his gaze and held it. "This is about having the time to be a parent to my child."

Daniel couldn't help a glance at Teal'c, wondering if the other man felt Sam's decision as a reproval of his own choice to fight against the Goa'uld and leave others to bring up his son. Teal'c looked as usual, without any evidence of approval or disapproval in his mien. " So you'll be working at the SGC in a civilian context?"

"Hammond would be happy to retain Carter," Jack pointed out. "Civilian or military."

That was a given. Sam's input to the SGC was incalculable, both in terms of technological expertise and her initiative in providing solutions when problems loomed. If you counted in her possession by Jolinar which led to meeting the Tok'ra, she could be considered responsible for one of Earth's alliances. Former alliances. "And you're sure about this?"

She met his gaze, blue eyes to blue eyes. "I'm sure."

_This is the way the world ends; not with a bang, but a whimper._ Daniel grimaced. "So...what are you going to tell Shanahan?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I don't know.

He knew it was a dangerous question to ask. Sam had left Pete Shanahan for reasons of her own, few of which she had elaborated to her team-mates. Daniel had done the unthinkable - at least to Jack and Teal'c - and asked her why. And she'd told him some of the reasons, although not all - at least he suspected not all. Her reasons for telling him seemed to be as much because she'd needed to justify them to herself as because she needed to justify them to him.

Maybe she'd told the other two, maybe not. Daniel suspected not.

"He'll find out sooner or later," Jack said, shortly. "The man's not an idiot, he can count the months, and Carter's hardly low-profile."

"You're not _advocating_ she actually tell him..."

The set of the older man's jaw was stubborn - as stubborn as Daniel's. "He's the father, Daniel. He should get to be told."

"Even when he's..." Daniel hesitated as he met Sam's gaze, and he bit down on what he'd been going to say. She'd told him her personal reasons in confidence. He wasn't quite so tactless as to betray that. Not quite.

"It's better that he's told up front, now. Because if she puts it off, he'll want to know why she didn't..." Jack had this look on his face - as though someone had stabbed him in the back and was twisting the knife. Daniel knew how that felt. He'd looked at Sha're, pregnant with Apophis' child, and wanted to scream and rant and sob until there was nothing left of him but the empty husk of his body, shelled on the dry sand of Abydos.

"Well, uh, I don't know, maybe she didn't tell him because they're no longer together?" Okay, so perhaps the sarcasm was unnecessary, but it felt good.

He'd definitely been around Jack too long.

"Together or not, a man has a right to know..."

"A _right_ to know? Jack, parenting is a privilege, not a right." Daniel thought of the foster homes he'd been shuffled through; of the men and women who'd taken him in at various points of his childhood after his parents died. "Just because a man is...is capable doesn't give him the right to be a _father_..."

"And just because the woman gets to bear the child doesn't mean she gets a right to decide whether or not the father should be told!" The knife-sharp edges of Jack's voice cut through Daniel's protests like a new razor through silk.

Sam stood. Without a word, she moved swiftly down the hall, her footsteps echoing through the carpeted wood floor. A moment later, the bathroom door shut firmly behind her and the sounds of retching could be heard.

At least, Daniel hoped it was retching; it would be better than her crying.

"This discussion should not be held before Samantha Carter, O'Neill, Daniel Jackson." Fifty years as Apophis' First Prime gave a man - or Jaffa - a certain authority. Teal'c rarely used that authority since he rarely had cause, but when he did, the effects were dramatic. Daniel felt like a kid who'd been thoroughly scolded. "The child is hers and the decision is hers also."

Jack regarded their team-mate with a quizzical brow. "But if the decision was up to you?"

Teal'c returned Jack's gaze, evenly and emotionlessly. "It is not up to me." And there was no telling which way Teal'c would fall on that matter, either. Not that it made much difference. Teal'c was right; the question of whether or not to tell Pete Shanahan of his impending fatherhood was not theirs to make.

That didn't mean they couldn't try to persuade Sam one way or the other...

"Jack, you didn't like Shanahan anyway," Daniel said, nettled by Jack's position in 'to tell or not to tell.' "What changed?"

Hard brown eyes gave away no secrets, "Nothing changed," Jack said. "And it wasn't that I didn't like him..."

"It was just that you didn't like him?"

"Cute, Daniel."

"You didn't."

Jack's glare could have punched through three-inch blast doors, but he said nothing other than a warning: "Daniel..."

"I'm just trying to understand why you'd advocate her telling Shanahan." Daniel knew he was pushing. He didn't care. He'd push as much as he had to in order to get the reasons out of Jack. Because there were reasons. Just not reasons that Daniel understood right now.

"You know why."

"Actually, I don't. That is, until you tell me why you're so intent on shoving Sam back to a man who wasn't worth the boot scrapings off that planet with the cows."

"And here I thought I was the one who didn't like Shanahan," muttered Jack sardonically.

"You are," Daniel stated. "You're just not the only one." He saw Teal'c's eyebrow go up and shrugged. "I'm allowed to like and dislike the people I choose, right?"

"Don't make it personal, Daniel. Shanahan should know..."

"And what happens when he does, Jack?" Daniel could see the way this would play out. "He claims his 'right' to be a father and is back in Sam's life again."

"If that's what she wants?"

"But it's not a case of what she wants, is it, Jack? It's a case of what you're requiring her to do. If she doesn't want to tell Shanahan, then she shouldn't have to."

"I don't 'require' anything, Daniel," Jack snapped, his eyes dark and hard in the stiff set of his face. "She can't keep it a secret, anyway. The instant she hands her notice of resignation in to Hammond, it'll be all around the base. Within a couple of months, she'll start showing. Anyone with half an eye will know she's pregnant, and anyone with half a brain cell can do the math. The only option Carter has of keeping it secret from Shanahan is to leave Colorado entirely and never appear in the public eye again. Do you want that?"

Daniel didn't. He fingered the edge of the medical report, scowling. "I just want Sam to be happy."

His friend snorted, "Do you think you're the only one? But she's also got to do what's right, Daniel."

They faced each other down with comfortable familiarity in their antagonism; ideologically different men who'd learned to respect and admire each other. And each one stubborn enough to crash against the other and never give way.

Daniel remembered an afternoon spent with Sam in her lab, a few days after she'd broken up with Shanahan. He _knew_ he was right in saying that Shanahan shouldn't be told; Jack was wrong - he didn't have the complete picture. Okay, so Daniel didn't have the complete picture either, but he had a more complete picture than Jack.

Neither man was going to give ground on this, and they both knew it.

Teal'c knew it too. "This conversation should end here," he stated. "And you should not trouble Major Carter with it again."

Jack looked at Teal'c, "Who died and put you in charge?"

"There have been no deaths, O'Neill." Teal'c tilted his head, "Yet."

The threat should have been comedic, but was not. And yet it was not entirely serious, either. Teal'c definitely had a way with words and a tilt of the head.

It was an exceedingly effective conversation-stopper.

As a result, when Sam emerged from the hallway, she found three utterly silent men sitting at her dining table. One eyebrow rose delicately up at the sight of them. "Did I miss something?"

----


	3. The Thin Blue Line 3

**Secrets and Shadows: ****The Thin Blue Line**

**Part Three**

George Hammond was accustomed to the strange and bizarre in this command. The request sitting on the desk before him was neither strange, nor bizarre, which could be considered strange and bizarre in the context of the SGC.

It was nothing more than a notification of resignation, pending the birth of Major Samantha Carter's child. Perfectly ordinary; not entirely unexpected. Everything on the notification was in order, from the date of intended resignation to her flourished signature at the bottom.

He glanced up over the paper to the woman who was resigning her commission. "It all seems to be in order," he stated.

"Yes, sir."

"And I imagine you won't be travelling through the Stargate in future."

"Not if I can help it, sir."

Well, he could certainly understand that.

George was extremely reluctant to let the Major leave Stargate Command, although he could hardly fault her desire to leave. A life at the beck and call of superiors who might or might not understand a parent's wish to stay with her child was not something that most parents desired. And Sam Carter had contributed more to the program than any person should ever have had to give of themselves in any job. She'd done her duty and far beyond it, and although George very much would have preferred to keep her here, it was plain to see that she had her heart set on being a parent to her child.

"I can't stop you from leaving, Major, although this command will certainly miss you and the work you've contributed to it. Do you have plans for work after the baby is born?"

"Not yet, sir." Sam hesitated a moment, "I thought I might apply to teach at the Academy when he's old enough to be left alone for longer periods..."

The notification of the baby's sex was surprising, and George regarded her with astonishment. "You already know it's a boy?"

She ducked her head, "No." A faint smile touched her lips, "Just projecting."

George remembered Margaret doing the same thing with their first child. For a moment, he wished the SGC had some way to get in contact with the Tok'ra. Jacob should be here for this - should at least know that he was going to be a grandfather again.

"Well, I believe I can safely say that the SGC will always have room for you, Major." There was something graceful and sad in her nod, almost final, as though she were leaving now and not in six months time. "In the meantime, you're presently working on a number of projects external to your involvement on SG-1 that should provide you with sufficient occupation over the next few months. Before you leave, those projects will need to be in a sufficient state of completion so that other personnel can take over the work on them."

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Have you given any thought to how this news will be received in...other organisations?" George wasn't sure if she'd considered the ramifications of her status as one of the few living hosts of Goa'uld symbiotes - and the only one with a sensitivity to naquadah.

"I've already been in conversation with Dr. Brightman about it," she told him. "And I would like to speak with you about setting up some failsafes in the event of injury or death to myself or my child."

"Now?"

The Major shook her head, "I'll need a day or so to iron out some of the finer details before presenting it to you, sir. If that's permissible."

"Certainly it is," he said, immediately. Knowing the Major as he did, George was certain she wouldn't ask for anything more than what she was entitled to through her work on the project. And he'd extend every possible cover to her and her child in order to make sure that both mother and child made it through the pregnancy and were protected after the birth. He owed it to her as one of his people. "Set up an appointment with my aide and I'll get that sorted out at the first available opportunity."

She nodded, and when he spoke again, it wasn't as a commanding officer but as an old family friend. "If there's anything I can do, Major..." The words felt stilted and awkward but she didn't seem to mind.

"Thankyou, sir." Then she paused and her eyes twinkled a little, "Uncle George."

He chuckled at the nickname she'd given him years ago, when she was just a little girl and he was visiting Jacob. "Your resignation isn't effective yet, Major," he said, wryly, "But if you do find yourself needing...well...in the absence of your father... I'd be honoured if..."

Sam smiled again, a beautiful, brilliant smile. "Thank you," she said, and this time she left off the honourific due his rank.

Later, when she was gone, George considered the situation lying ahead of him, the complexities and changes that were coming - not just for the Major, but for the SGC generally.

Sam Carter wasn't the only one facing big decisions with long-reaching ramifications at this moment, although the effects of her decisions weren't likely to be terribly far-reaching in terms of the people around her. Then, again...

George wondered if he should go and see Jack. It should have been an unthinkable idea, to go and check on a subordinate for the reasons George was entertaining. But George had long ago discovered that the SGC got quite a bit more leeway than other commands, and more than once he'd stretched that leeway near to breaking. And his people might be cogs in the machine of the Air Force, but they were also people. They had lives and loves and breaking points and human frailties.

Sometimes that human frailty turned out to be a weakness, and sometimes it turned out to be a strength. George had seen both in his time as commander of the SGC. The trick, he'd discovered, was to find the right people: the men and women whose inner steel would hold them through the tough times.

As he shuffled Major Carter's resignation papers away with the other paperwork that would have to be delivered to base, George wondered just how much steel Jack O'Neill was made of.

----


	4. The Thin Blue Line 4

**Secrets and Shadows: ****The Thin Blue Line**

**Part Four**

There were few things weirder than getting a call from Carter asking him over without specifying why she needed him to come around. However, Jack had to admit that yanking open his stiff front door and finding her standing on the doorstep, unannounced, was definitely one of them.

"May I come in?" The lack of honourific simply added to the weirdness.

And all the protocol in the world didn't inform him exactly how he was supposed to say, "_No, you can't_."

"Uh, sure," he found himself saying. He waved a hand at the interior of the house. "Come in."

_God, please don't let her stay too long..._

He followed her into the living room, tucking his hands into his pockets and watching her as she sat down in one of the chairs. She looked about as ill at ease as he felt, her hands clutching each other firmly in her lap.

Even in casual jeans and a plain top, Carter looked...delicious. It was the wrong word to use to describe a subordinate, especially one sitting on Jack's couch, but it was the only one he could think of at that moment.

He remembered Sara's pregnancy, and the way she'd glowed, radiant and incredibly sexy. Part of that had been the fact that she was carrying Jack's child, and his male ego was stroked by the possession of woman and baby; but, given his response to Carter, maybe it was just attraction and the beauty she exuded from every cell of her pregnant body.

Jack clenched his hands into fists, safe in the pockets of his jacket.

Damn regulations. Damn sense of honour. Damn whole fucking situation.

Life was definitely _not_ fair.

"So," he said, aiming to get this order of business out of the way, "What brings you to my humble abode?" She'd come around here once before recently, just before they went in search of Daniel's mythical lost city. And then, as now, he'd been hard pressed not to throw away honour and principle, and just...well, jump her.

There was a joke in the whole situation somewhere. Now, if Jack could only find out who was laughing at him, he'd beat the living daylights out of them.

"I...I've decided what I'm going to tell Pete," she said, slowly.

_What makes you think I want to know?_ His argument with Daniel still stung his emotions and his pride. Daniel's insistance that Shanahan didn't need to know about Sam's pregnancy resonated with Jack's emotions, but his reason demanded that the man be told. "And?" His voice came out more harshly than he'd intended, but she didn't look at him at all.

"You're right," she said, slowly. "He should know." Judging by the way she was tense as a strung wire, Jack guessed that the decision she'd made wasn't the one she wanted to make. And one of the reasons he...admired Carter so much was because she held to her own personal honour just as strongly as he did his own. Maybe more so.

It warmed him, just a little bit, to see the struggle in her and know that she didn't really want Shanahan back in her life. Something in him wanted to say that it was because something in her still...admired him; but his innate cynicism swiftly drowned out that thought. Carter was too strong to want to remain with someone who required her to be something she was not - even for loneliness sake.

His silence drew her eyes to his face and he struggled not to look away. "I don't want to...to go back," she said quietly. "And I won't. He has a right to know about his child, but I can't...not even for our child..."

_Our child..._ Jack's stomach lurched violently and it was all he could do not to retch.

If he'd needed any proof that he was not over this woman, he had it in his body's instinctive rejection of the thought of Shanahan and Carter together. Carter, whom Jack had kissed once - a once she didn't even remember and never would. Carter, whom Jack had admired from the safe distance of a commanding officer for seven years. Carter, who was carrying another man's child, and yet seemed to expect him to put their history behind him to help her out.

She was watching him, now, blue eyes guarded. "Sir? I was wondering if you would mind..."

A knock at the door interrupted her, and they both glanced towards the hall.

Jack cursed silently and took one step towards the door before he heard the key in the lock and swore under his breath. He wasn't going to make it to the door before it was opened, and he paused in the hall, looking back at Carter, sitting pale and bewildered on his couch.

Well, she would have found out sooner or later, he supposed, bitterly. And it wasn't as though he had anything to hide. They were free agents. She'd made that clear enough.

But Jack felt as though he should be ashamed of the woman who pushed open the door in a way that spoke of familiarity with his house. And that did Mel a grave injustice.

"Jack?" Her voice was beautiful, rich and melodious, a pleasure to the ears as it broke through the sudden heavy silence. "Are you ready to go?"

----

She'd intended to ask the Colonel to come with her when she told Pete about the baby. A backup of sorts, to remind her not to be taken in by anything her ex-boyfriend might say or do.

He hadn't been welcoming towards her, although she could understand that. It wasn't as though she usually dropped in to say 'hi' the way Daniel might. And she was well aware of his discomfort regarding her and her pregnancy, her relationship with Pete and a whole lot of other things.

So she'd been leading up to the request, gathering all her courage about her to ask, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.

A moment later, her world turned about as the door opened smoothly, with an ease that showed the woman entering was familiar with the vagaries of the Colonel's sticky front door.

Something in Sam choked and died as she rose to her feet and looked from the slender woman to the Colonel. _Now_ she understood the smart shirt and pressed slacks, and the hair that looked as though it had been combed into neat submission. The understanding nearly undid her, and only years of self-control enabled her not to crumble beneath the onslaught of emotion that swept through her like an explosion.

"I'm sorry," the woman said as she looked from the Colonel to Sam. "I'm interrupting something." Graceful hands smoothed down the sides of her light summer dress, and Sam suddenly felt frumpy in her jeans and military-issue t-shirt.

"Sorry, Mel," the Colonel said, "Carter came by unexpectedly and..." He glanced at Sam, and she saw his uneasiness, as plain as if he'd broadcast it over a radio communications system. "Melissa, this is...Major Samantha Carter. Carter, this is Melissa Sandringham."

_Major Carter_, Sam thought bitterly, although she kept her expression neutral and stretched her mouth in a smile that she knew didn't reach her eyes. She moved past the Colonel and held out her hand, "Pleased to meet you."

The words couldn't have been farther from the truth, but she gave them some show of credibility - or so she hoped.

"You're Carter?" Melissa asked, her lovely voice interested. "Jack's spoken of you before. Just a little bit about the work he does in the mountain."

"Just a little bit," the Colonel echoed. _Nothing that would compromise security._ "Not enough to bore the pants off her." The smile he shot at Melissa was warmly affectionate, and Sam suddenly felt as though winter had come unusually early.

A mean little voice in Sam whispered that the Colonel would hardly have to resort to _boring_ the woman to get the pants off her. The remains of her lunch suddenly churned within her, and she felt as though something had perforated her lungs and there wasn't enough air to give her the oxygen she needed...

One hand reached out to the wall, instinctively seeking something that would steady her. A moment later, the Colonel was at her elbow, his hand supporting her arm. "Carter?"

She moved away from him, enough to make it clear his touch wasn't welcomed. "Sir, I'm fine..."

"You're still in the first trimester of your pregnancy..."

"And it doesn't mean I can't look after myself," Sam said, striving for calm. _Calm. Control..._ "I won't trespass on your time anymore, sir." She didn't want to be anywhere near the Colonel right now. Especially since the feel of his hand on her bare arm was doing terrible things to her equilibrium, fingertips hot against the chill of her skin.

"And I'm not going to let you drive home as long as you're having dizzy spells..."

"With all due respect, sir, you're not responsible for my well-being..."

"When you nearly faint in my hallway, that makes me responsible," he argued. Her hand fisted, fighting the urge to clock him one. If he thought she was going to let him hover over her, or have to stand and watch him and Melissa, he had another think coming.

"We could drive you home if you like..."

She didn't like. She _really_ didn't like. "Excuse me," she managed, before she flung off the Colonel's arm and made for the bathroom. Her arm where his fingers had rested was cold, so cold, and Sam would never be warm again.

The porcelain sterility of the toilet mocked her as her lunch came up and ruined the pristine perfection of the bowl. Daniel might have said it was an apt metaphor for her pregnancy; scarring the perfection of her career and her life with its garish complications. At least, the Daniel-in-her-head would have said it; Daniel might disapprove or dislike, but he had some measure of tact. Sometimes. When he chose to.

_I'll ask Daniel,_ she thought as she rinsed out her mouth and washed her hands at the basin. _Daniel can come and get me from here._ A glance at her face in the mirror showed the usual. Mouth too thin, brow too wide, eyes too large and prone to shadows beneath them; a sombre, serious face that she presented to the world as Major Sam Carter.

A knock on the open door made her whirl around to face the Colonel. "Uh, you okay, Carter?"

She didn't hold his glance more than a moment, turning back to dry her hands on the handtowel hanging neatly from the rail. 'Carter.' That was all she was to him. One more soldier he'd worked with in his time. One more warm body to throw at the enemy. Not anyone special, just a woman who'd once been a member of his team.

The knowledge wrung her dry, and she answered him with stiff correctness, the perfect soldier. "Fine, sir. Just a momentary nausea."

"I talked with Melissa, we can..."

"I'll call Daniel, sir," she said, interrupting him briskly and avoiding looking at his face. "There's no need for you to interrupt your evening out."

"Carter, it's no trouble..."

She was proud of herself for keeping her voice even, "You had a...a date planned," she said quietly, "You should get to keep it. I'm...I'm okay. I could probably even drive..."

"You're not driving home," he said, and Sam looked up at him as her mind registered the harshness in his voice. His face was a mask of anger, and she couldn't understand why he looked as though she'd betrayed him in some way. Surely, if there was anyone betrayed here it was...

Sam mentally slammed the door on that thought before it could reach its conclusion. She had no right to feel betrayed; none at all.

And yet...

The Colonel was still talking, hard and fast, as though he were barking out commands in the field. "If you won't accept a lift from me, then we'll call Daniel and wait for him to get here so he can drive you home. But I am _not_ letting you drive yourself home!"

Sam could have retorted that it was not his decision. She could have told him that he wasn't allowed to intrude into her private life. She couldn't have told him that he couldn't stop her if she decided otherwise.

She didn't.

Instead, she let him call Daniel, then sat stiffly in his living room and made politely stilted conversation with Melissa, who seemed clueless enough not to notice the icy frigidity of the woman desperately trying not to snub her. And the Colonel paced and watched them, and occasionally added to the conversation. It was maddening.

By the time Daniel arrived, Sam was ready to dig her own grave and bury herself in it. Melissa seemed like a lovely person; a wryly deprecating sense of humour, a serenity that Sam envied in the midst of her own turmoil, claws that she displayed neatly to the Colonel when he snapped unexpectedly at Sam... She was beautiful, elegant, and Sam got no hint of any displeasure that the evening had been interrupted by a woman who was, after all, only a work colleague.

Under other circumstances, Sam might even have liked the woman.

Just not with Colonel O'Neill.

Daniel arched a brow at them all as he walked in. "Sorry to delay your evening, Jack, Melissa," he said. "Sam, you ready to go? Got anything in your car you need to take with you? Laptops, cellphones, stuff?"

Her apologies and farewell to the Colonel and his date were stiff, and Sam walked to Daniel's car, trying to remember if she'd ever felt so flat and stale.

"Sam?" Daniel was regarding her over the roof of his Prius. At the whirr-click of the doors unlocking, Sam pulled open the door and slid in, giving all her attention to adjusting the seat and fastening her seatbelt and ignoring the man and woman who'd come out of the house and were walking over to the Colonel's truck, conversing softly.

Nothing was said until they reached the state highway running towards Sam's house. "I guess you didn't know about Melissa," Daniel said quietly.

"I guess you did," she responded, then shut her mouth, ashamed of her cattiness.

"Are you okay?"

"I had a brief nauseous spell," she explained, "But I'm fine, otherwise."

"Jack said you were dizzy for a moment there."

If he was fishing for information, he was doing a bad job of it, Sam decided. "It was just a moment."

"You do have to look after yourself..."

"So I'm going to have you nagging me all the time?"

He regarded her evenly, "Only when you need to be nagged," he said. "Sam, we're your friends. We're here for you and your child, whatever you decide to do with it or about it."

Sam looked at his profile as he navigated through the Springs' rush hour traffic. "Will you come with me when I tell Pete about the baby?"

She'd intended to ask the Colonel to accompany her. But Daniel would do in a pinch, and it was definitely a pinch.

Behind his glasses, the blue eyes blinked a couple of times in surprise. "Uh... Sure." He frowned a little, "When were you thinking of..."

"Sunday afternoon," Sam said. "In the park." Somewhere public and obvious. Somewhere where she could escape from and not feel as though she were obligated or cornered. And with someone there to back her up.

It was silly to feel as though she needed someone else present when she told Pete about the baby. It wasn't as though she couldn't handle Pete quite capably herself. She just...didn't want to do this alone.

There were a lot of things Sam didn't want to do alone.

Among them was bring up this child without a father. But it wasn't as though she had a choice in that.

Or did she?

Sam stared out the window, submitting herself to Daniel's choice of country and western music and reviewing her options.

She could take Pete back. If he was still interested, of course. He might not be. Yes, they'd had their differences, but surely he could change. If he could learn that he wasn't always going to get his way, if he could understand that she had her own life and her own things that she wanted to do and sometimes she just wanted to be left alone - that he didn't need to occupy her every moment of the time they were together... She was going to change jobs, take on something that wouldn't be as secretive, that wouldn't be hiding stuff from him... It could work.

Maybe.

Sam was only too aware that there were a lot of 'ifs' in her thoughts. Sure, Pete was stubborn, but so was she...

"Sam?" Daniel snapped his fingers in front of her nose. "Earth to Sam!"

"What?"

"I was asking if I got to be an honourary uncle. You know, to your son or daughter." He twinkled at her, smiling slightly. "Teach them to speak Goa'uld and cuss at you in a dozen languages..."

"Of course," she said lightly. "You can be 'Unca Danny' and the babysitter for when we need time off."

"Good," he said, a smile flashing across his face before he frowned slightly. "'_We_'?" Sam looked away, but not before she saw the incredulity skitter across his face. "You're not thinking of going back to him..."

"And if I am?" She flashed at him, aware that she was taking her anger about the Colonel and Melissa out on him and not really caring. "It wasn't all bad..."

In the early days of their relationship, Pete had been spontaneous, turning up at her house on a whim with anything from a bottle of champagne to a new set of silk sheets to 'try out.' He'd given her gifts, taken her out to shows, slow-danced her through the night - all the usual romantic stuff. He'd made her feel like she was a desirable, feminine _woman_ for once; not a soldier fighting in the middle of a war.

The reality was that she was at once both a woman and a soldier; and while her relationship with Pete had allowed her to be just a woman, he hadn't been able to handle the idea that she was also a soldier, military trained, and well capable of things he couldn't imagine.

"It wasn't all bad when you were _first_ dating," Daniel retorted as he handled the car through traffic. "Do you remember why you told me you broke up?"

In the end her relationship with Pete had crashed on the rocks of her professional work; the same thing they'd always crashed on.

She regretted those few minutes of blunt honesty, now. They'd been cozened from her at 0300 a mere week after she'd broken up with Pete. For all that he could act clueless when it came to military workings, Daniel could set up an intellectual ambush like nobody else Sam had met.

"I remember," she said, tightly. "But that was before the baby..."

His disappointment and disapproval resonated in the air conditioning of the car. "What makes anything different now that you have the baby, Sam? How much more is he going to respect your boundaries and let you be yourself? Is the baby really going to change anything that was wrong between you in the first place?"

Sam knew the answer to that. And he knew she knew the answer.

But it wasn't Daniel's child. It wasn't his decision. And it wasn't his loneliness, eating at him all the time.

At the end of the day, Sam was lonely.

She was all the more so after seeing the lovely woman the Colonel was taking out tonight.

Where had they gone? What were they doing?

Dinner at a nice restaurant with candlelight, soft music, good company? Or out to a bar to sit at a table all night and talk until the evening grew late? Tickets to the opera or maybe to a pre-season hockey game? And afterwards, would the Colonel invite Melissa inside and down the long corridor to his bedroom and kiss her as though there was no other woman in the world but her?

Sam wondered why she was doing this to herself.

Houses flashed past, their reflective eyes showing nothing within, revealing none of the secrets that lay inside. Sam felt as though she were a house with all the furnishings laid out across the front yard, her secrets revealed, her soul as empty as a house with no family inside it.

"You know how I went through several foster homes after my parents died," he said, after a moment. "One of them - one of the first ones - was a couple who fought all the time. They applied to foster because they wanted a child of their own and hadn't had one. And the money was probably good, too," he added, with wry sardonicism.

"Anyway, when I came to them, she'd managed to conceive and was halfway through her pregnancy. And they fought." His mouth twisted, bitter with the memory. "They argued over everything, from what she was and wasn't allowed to eat and drink, to how they spent the money. They fought day and night, and if it wasn't one thing, it was another. He didn't like her involvement in work, she didn't like his friends and how much time he spent down at the bar." Daniel shrugged. "Tammy kept telling me it would be okay when the baby was born. And then the baby was born and they had one more thing to fight over in addition to everything else."

"Pete and I weren't like that." Yet, even as she spoke, Sam knew what Daniel's response would be.

"Maybe you didn't fight all the time," he conceded, "But the problems with your relationship - the ones you said broke you up - are still there. And a child won't change that one bit." They stopped at a traffic light and he turned to her, looking her directly in the eye. "Sam, it's better to be single and wish you were dating someone than be stuck in a relationship and wish you were single."

Sam was tempted to snap at him, demanding just how he knew this. She kept her mouth shut.

It was disconcerting to notice that, in addition to a suddenly-acquired delicate stomach, Sam was finding herself short of temper, irritable, and prone to snapping at people around her. Especially the people with whom she was familiar - namely the guys of SG-1. _Better be careful,_ she told herself, sharply. _Nobody likes a bitch. Even a pregnant one._

Daniel had a point. A child wouldn't change the problems that had existed between her and Pete. She conceded that, silently and resentfully. But with a child, they'd at least have a reason to work through those problems.

_And the relationship wasn't worth working through those problems before?_ Her internal monologue inquired acidly.

Sam was given no chance to defend her sudden inclination to repair her relationship with Pete. Daniel was addressing her again. "Sunday in the park?"

Her thoughts were so scattered that it took her a few moments to work out what he was asking. "Yes. I'll need to pick up my car sometime on the weekend..."

"We can do it after the park," he said.

"Daniel, that leaves me without a car for the whole weekend."

"I can drive you around if you need to get somewhere."

He was being stupid about this. Sam rolled her eyes. "And what if I wanted to run around to every baby clothing shop in town?"

"Then it's probably just as well that you don't have a car," Daniel retorted, smiling. Upon catching her expression, he regarded her with slight exasperation. "Oh, come on, Sam," he chided, "Did you really think that you'd become _persona non grata_ now you're pregnant? We're not like that."

"I'm going to be pregnant for another six months," she reminded him. "You'll be more than tired of playing devoted uncle by the end of that time."

He grinned, blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses as they turned into her street. "So enjoy it now while it lasts!"

And even she had to crack a smile at that.

----


	5. The Thin Blue Line 5

**Secrets and Shadows: ****The Thin Blue Line**

**Part Five**

"All I'm saying is that it might have been nice to give her a little advance warning," Daniel said into the phone as he stared out his kitchen window.

"Warning about what?" Jack was in a bad mood and no doubt about it. Lucky for him, Daniel was also in a bad mood and ready to do battle. He'd spent most of yesterday around at Sam's place, 'keeping an eye on her' as she snapped more than once. And he couldn't deny the truth of that. He _was_ keeping an eye on her.

Someone had to.

"About Melissa."

"It's not her business."

Daniel resisted the urge to grind his teeth. Instead he ripped back the plastic cover of the frozen meal with a viciousness that might had surprised a number of his colleagues. So Jack was going to play the old, 'There's nothing between me and Carter' card again?

"Maybe, maybe not. But did you even tell her you were expecting a guest when she arrived? Or was it just, 'Oh, hey, Carter, nice to see you here, sit down and have a cup of coffee while we wait for my call girl to show up?'"

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. Daniel used the silence to shove the frozen meal into the microwave and start it cooking.

"That was unnecessary, Daniel." Jack's voice was frigid steel.

Maybe it was. But Daniel would never admit that. "Did you know she was considering going back to Shanahan?"

More silence. Then, "No."

"She's lonely, Jack, and it's harder on her than it is on us. For some people, bad company is preferable to loneliness."

"She's Carter."

As if that changed anything! "She's a woman, Jack. She's lonely. And all she can see is the long, empty years ahead of her, bringing up a child without someone there beside her."

"And what am I supposed to do about that?" Jack rapped out, angrily.

"A little compassion probably wouldn't go astray," Daniel retorted. "An understanding of where she's coming from, possibly how hard it was to have the realisation of Melissa thrown at her."

"I understand _exactly_ where she's coming from!" The words were spat out like bullets, old bitterness emerging from beneath the gruff exterior. "And there is _nothing_ I can do, Daniel! Life isn't fair and we live with it. We deal with it." The way Jack had lived and dealt with Sam's relationship with Shanahan. "How easy do you think it is..."

As abruptly as it had started, Jack's rant stopped. He bit off his words and went silent. But Daniel heard what his friend didn't say. _How easy do you think it is knowing she's pregnant to another man, to watch her grow with his child and know that if she was beyond reach before, she's now out among the stars?_

Daniel felt like a heel. But that didn't stop him from saying, "She needs you, now, Jack. She needs all of us."

Jack muttered something that sounded like, "Yeah, like a hole in the head."

Daniel counted to ten. He counted down from ten. He did it again in Abydonian, Russian, French, and Swahili.

"Daniel?"

"I'm counting, Jack."

Jack knew what that phrase meant. He'd heard it often enough. The noise at the other end of the line was almost definitely a huffed sigh, but when the older man spoke again, it was with a little more leniency. "Look, when you and Carter are done, come around for dinner. I'll invite Teal'c, we'll make a barbecue of it."

Okay, so there was hope. Not a lot, but some.

Daniel hung up the phone after assuring Jack that both he and Sam would be there for dinner. It would provide an opportunity for Sam to pick up her car from Jack's place, and would also give her a chance to get over the initial awkwardness between her and Jack that was most likely after the unexpected meeting with Melissa.

The microwave dinged, producing his macaroni cheese lunch, and he went over to his open books and sat down to enjoy a couple of hours of relaxing translations.

Sam was a bundle of nerves when he picked her up, although she was hiding it pretty well. He forebore to comment on her nervousness, and they sat in silence all the way to the park.

It had been a warm summer, and even this late in the season, the temperature was a pleasant eighty degrees. As they drove down to the nearby park, Daniel saw that many families had taken advantage of the warm weather to go outside, and there were parents and children all over the place.

Daniel spotted Shanahan without too much trouble. A lone man, pacing in an empty section of the park, his eyes shaded as he glanced towards the parking lot. Presumably, he was looking for Sam's car. Daniel was suddenly quite glad he'd come along to provide moral support.

As he parked the car, he touched Sam on the arm. "You're sure about this?"

He honestly didn't know what she'd decided over the last day. For all he knew, she might have decided to take Shanahan back. And it wasn't his place to tell her right or wrong, yea or nay, although he wouldn't hesitate to give her a piece of his mind where necessary. All Daniel could do was hope that she was strong enough not to settle for a relationship where she had to hide who she was in order to be accepted.

Sam looked back at him, pale but holding onto her composure. "Yeah," she said, quietly. "Showtime."

Shanahan's surprise at seeing Daniel accompanying Sam only lasted a moment. "Sam, what's this about? Why are we meeting here?"

"Because I'm pregnant." It was a bald statement, plain and unvarnished, and Shanahan gaped at her.

"You're... But you said you were protected... Those injections..."

Daniel kept a few yards away, close enough so he was still in Sam's presence, far enough away that he wasn't a part of the conversation. Not overtly.

"I was. But sometimes...sometimes the injections take a day or two to kick in." Her explanation was stilted and slightly formal.

"And now you're pregnant..." Shanahan was stunned. "You're sure?"

Sam detailed the tests Dr. Brightman had run on her in the SGC. Bloodwork, hormone tests, even a preliminary ultrasound. She left other details of her discussions with the SGC doctor out. He didn't need to know everything.

"My child. God, _my_ child... Sam, I know we had our troubles, but this is...this is wonderful!" He moved to embrace her, spreading his arms wide.

"Pete." Sam put her hands up against his chest, and stopped his rambling with her action. "I... This doesn't change any of the problems we had."

Now Shanahan stepped back, a frown wrinkling his brow as he tried to make sense of what she was saying. "What do you mean? This changes everything! It's our child, Sam..."

"We're not seeing each other anymore," Sam began.

"We could," he said, his voice softening. "I've missed you, you know..."

Sam made a sound like a sigh. "Pete, things are different now."

Shanahan eyed her sharply, "Are you seeing someone else?" Daniel saw the pale eyes flicker over Sam's shoulder to where he stood. Sam followed his gaze and shook her head.

"No," she said quietly, "I'm not seeing anyone else."

"Then why can't we get together? Why can't I bring up my own child?"

"You can have access to him or her..."

"Access? I don't want 'access', Sam," Shanahan's voice rose, incredulous. "I want to be its father. _Properly_ its father..." He took her hands in his own, "I'll marry you if you want, but you have to let me bring up my own kid!"

Sam didn't say anything, and for a moment, Daniel wondered if she was going to give in to her ex-boyfriend's wishes.

Then Sam spoke. "I want to keep this child, Pete." She spoke very quietly - so quietly, Daniel could barely hear her. "But we're not seeing each other and we're not going to start seeing each other again."

"Sam..."

Daniel tucked his hands in his pockets and turned towards the main park area, where children romped around the swingset and the jungle gym. Men and women stood around, some talking to each other while keeping a watchful eye on the children, others were led by their offspring into the midst of the playground area, or were remonstrating with the children's behaviour.

"Daniel!" The call was unexpected, and for a moment, he wasn't sure that the woman was addressing him.

Then he saw her, coming towards him, her youngest child in her arms. "Linda!"

"Not a place I would have expected to see you," she said, smiling. "Unless you've been holding out on me."

He shook his head with a smile of his own. "No, no holding out." He indicated Sam who'd turned from the conversation with Shanahan at Linda's call. "I'm here with a friend." It felt a little odd lowering his voice, as though he had something to hide. "She needed to see her ex- about a personal matter and asked me to come along as moral support."

Linda arched a brow at him, "One of your friends from work?"

"Yes," he said. There was no point in equivocating around the matter. "Sam."

"Ah," Linda didn't turn immediately to look; she had more finesse than that. "Well, dare I hope your presence here means I can expect to see you at my office come Thursday? Or will you be out and about again?"

Daniel mentally ran through SG-1's schedule in his head before he realised that it didn't make any difference. Sam's announcement of her pregnancy and her forthcoming resignation from the Air Force had set the schedule on its head since they'd need a fourth member to go out with them. Assuming, of course, that Jack's knees weren't acting up again. They'd been notoriously unstable of late. "No, I think... I should be able to make Thursday."

"Good." Then she frowned and glanced around at the raised voices behind them.

"...don't make this about revenge on me just because I didn't meet your standards, Sam..."

"It's not about revenge, Pete," Sam said. From the sound of it, she was trying to be understanding; there was a note of pleading in her voice. "It's about what's best for us..."

"And what about what's best for our child? Have you considered that?" Shanahan's voice turned bitter, "Or is it all about your job and your work again? Sam, you can't bring up a child doing what you're doing..."

"I know. I've resigned my commission, effective from the baby's date of birth..."

"You've left the Air Force?" There was no mistaking the surprise. Whatever Shanahan had expected, this wasn't it. "I thought..."

"This is my child, Pete," Sam said, quietly. "I want the best for him too."

Shanahan looked hurt. "You just don't think that I'm the best father for him, do you?"

"I think that our relationship wouldn't be helpful..."

"Jesus, Sam, we got along fine most of the time! It was just that you were so focused on your job all the time! And now that you won't be working for the Air Force and we have the baby..." Shanahan took her shoulders in his hands, "We could make it work, you know..."

Daniel grimaced, completely forgetting Linda's presence, or that he wasn't supposed to be watching them.

"Trouble in paradise, I see," Linda said, her voice light with irony. "That would be Detective Shanahan, yes? The one who interrupted one of your....projects?"

Beyond her, Shanahan's voice had risen noticeably, "...was always about you all the time. You and your work. You and your team-mates. How was I supposed to compete with that, Sam? You had them all up on a damn pedestal, and I was just the poor schmuck you dated whenever you weren't off saving the world..."

"Pete!" Sam hissed, warningly. Her interruption of his tirade wasn't quite timely enough to stop him from the 'saving the world' jibe, but it stopped him from revealing any more secrets that they didn't want divulged to the general public.

"Sorry," he muttered. "But it's true. You were so busy with your job - with _them_ - you had no time for me."

"Your job is hardly nine-to-five either," Sam said, and her voice was pitched so low, Daniel had to strain to hear it. "Pete, this isn't the time to go through why we broke up..."

"Dinner, then," he said, promptly.

"Uhh..." Daniel suddenly realised he had to intervene since she didn't know about the dinner. "Sam, I didn't tell you this before - completely slipped my mind. We're having dinner at Jack's. You, me, Murray..." _A team night._ He didn't say as much, but Sam would get it.

The question was whether dinner at Jack's would be considered worse than arguing all night with Shanahan.

Right now, Daniel figured it was a toss up - with the coin weighted against them. Sam had been close-lipped and unwilling to discuss anything about Jack since Friday evening; she wouldn't want to spend the evening in his presence, only two nights later.

The balance wavered, and Daniel saw it tipping inexorably away from SG-1...

Then Shanahan upset the scales.

"You can do without Sam for tonight," he said, forthrightly. "We have things to discuss about this child, right, Sam?"

Daniel later reflected that if Shanahan hadn't pre-empted her decision, she probably would have chosen to avoid Jack entirely. Instead, she looked at him coolly, "We have things to discuss about it, Pete, but not tonight."

"Then when?"

As she struggled to find an answer that he would accept, Daniel turned back to Linda, somewhat relieved that the immediate danger had been averted. Linda was watching Sam and Shanahan, although she turned back to him once she saw his eyes upon her. "The milk and meat of my career," was all she said. "So, I'll be seeing you on Thursday, then?"

Daniel just nodded. "If something comes up, I'll let your offices know."

Linda smiled. "It would be better to see you, Daniel."

"I'm not always in control of that."

"I know. But it would be a pleasant surprise to have you turn up for one of your appointments."

"I'll do my best," he promised with a half-laugh and watched her walk towards the child that was watching, wide-eyed, his hand stuck in his mouth. Daniel observed her pick up the toddler and carry him back to the playground.

It had been at least a month since he'd last sat down with Linda. Their meetings were supposed to happen every fortnight, but what with one thing and another...

"Look, Sam, you'd better get used to the idea of me being in your life, because you're not going to have my child without me!"

Daniel didn't turn around at the angry words. He didn't need to add to Sam's embarrassment at this moment. Shanahan had unwisely spoken loud enough for quite a number of adults in the park to hear his words and Daniel could see them staring.

"If I intended to keep you out of my child's life, Pete, I wouldn't have told you at all!"

"So I should be grateful, then?"

Sam looked away, and her gaze clashed with Daniel's before she turned back to her ex-boyfriend. "This is why we shouldn't talk about this now," she said tightly. "You need to work out what you want for this child, and I need to work out what I want for this child, and we'll have to come to an agreement..."

"An agreement? This isn't a negotiation, Sam!"

"And what do you expect me to do? We split because things weren't working out..."

"Things were working fine until everything became about that job of yours..." Shanahan's eyes sullenly met Daniel's. "Have you ever heard of separation anxiety? You even brought one of them along with you to tell me you're pregnant? Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

Daniel wondered how strange Shanahan would have found it if he'd been told that Daniel was here for moral support in the face of a difficult situation.

"We're not going to discuss this now," she said, angrily. "I'll call you on Tuesday and we'll talk this over then."

Shanahan didn't look happy, but Sam was set.

And Daniel didn't say a thing as they walked away from the park, the screeches and bellows of the children echoing behind them. He didn't have to say anything.

"Why didn't you tell me about dinner before?"

"I forgot." It was true enough.

A quick peek at her face showed her looking troubled. She caught his glance, but didn't say anything or try to explain. With Sam, her emotional troubles were usually private, except where her team-mates delved into her life.

"You have to pick up your car anyway," he pointed out.

"And whose fault is it that my car was left there?" Sam inquired, acidly.

"Not mine." Daniel reminded her.

They wandered across the grass, twigs and leaves snapping lightly under their shoes, barely audible with the background of the children screaming and laughing behind them.

"Look," he said in an effort to lift her spirits a little. "You've done what you said you would; you've told Shanahan. That's the worst of it, isn't it?"

The irony of his blithe statement would only come back to haunt him later.

Afterwards.

**-- End of Part One --**

**NOTES**: Part Two is called **'Under Siege'** and will be posted shortly.

**CHARACTER NOTES:** For the character of Pete Shanahan, I extrapolated on the base of what the writers of the show gave us in the episode 'Chimera' (obsessive, paranoid, manipulative, and inept) and simply didn't smooth everything over with a 'no harm, no foul' at the end.


	6. Under Siege 1

**Secrets and Shadows: Under Siege**

**Part One**

When Teal'c first woke up and discovered himself dependant on tretonin instead of his primta, he had expected to lose many of the skills which he had possessed as a Jaffa. And, indeed, the tretonin, while providing him with perfect health and significant healing ability, had made him more human than Jaffa - a weakness he still occasionally regretted.

However, it had also provided insight into how the Jaffa had changed through the years since their departure from Earth.

O'Neill had been most put out to discover that the strength and speed of the Jaffa people, while increased by the primta, was still significantly greater than that of any ordinary human being. Teal'c had accustomed himself to the inferiority of strength and speed of reaction, no longer what it had been as a Jaffa with a primta. Nevertheless, there were other skills and abilities that had not waned with the assumption of tretonin. Among them was the ability to see and hear farther than humans.

The voices in the corridor outside were not loud; they did not need to be. Teal'c could hear them more than clearly from his position just inside the door of the empty laboratory. But where their words might have been muffled to others, they were quite audible to Teal'c.

"...and she said that the guy was yelling at the Major about how he wasn't going to let her go and have this child without him!"

"Really?"

The voices were young and slightly hushed, barely audible over the clump of their booted feet. "Oh yes," said the first woman, dramatically.

"Are you sure it was Major Carter?"

"He called her 'Sam,'" averred the first woman. "And she's seen the pictures from that last set of war games against the NORAD base. The one where SG-1 captured the last NORAD group and stuck whipped cream horns on them after tying them up?"

The second woman giggled, "Yeah, I remember that. I didn't think they could get away with that..."

"Well, SG-1 gets away with a lot more than most other people on this base..."

"They've earned it though."

"Oh, I'm not arguing that! It would just be nice to, you know, have someone else get a bit of the limelight once in a while."

"Well, the Major's off the outgoing roster. Scuttlebutt has it she's already handed in her resignation for when the kid is born. Single motherhood and all."

The voices had grown closer as the conversation progressed. Teal'c wondered if they would enter into the laboratory, just as he had, but they passed on by.

"Doesn't sound like it if her guy can persuade her back."

"I'm a bit surprised she dated him in the first place. I mean, the Major could have her pick of guys, and didn't he screw up the stakeout at Dr. Jackson's place last year?"

"Who cares? He's cute."

"There's more to a man than his looks."

"There is?"

"Ha-ha," said the woman without any real humour. "I dunno, I always figured that Colonel O'Neill and the Major had something going..."

"Heard of the regs?"

"Sure. And know of more cases where they were quietly bent without anyone being hurt than the ones that give the Air Force bad PR. Besides," the second woman added, "When you're working with these people day in, day out for seven years, if you _don't_ get close to them then I think there's something wrong with you."

"Well, apparently the Major's ex complained about always coming second to her team. It seems that Dr. Jackson accompanied her to the park and the guy didn't like it..."

The voices faded, the sounds becoming indistinct, even to Teal'c, as the women turned into the distant corridor.

He regarded the room around him, frowning a little after the conversation he'd overheard, but filing his concerns in the back of his mind as he concentrated on the reason he had come here to begin with.

Major Carter had charged him to bring up some of the test results of items upon which she had been working. Teal'c was more than happy to perform this service for her, and had come down with specific instructions on what was required from Dr. Sefton's office. And so he had been witness to but fragment of base gossip centred around Major Carter and her pregnancy.

As Teal'c looked around Dr. Sefton's office, he considered whether he should remain and wait for the Doctor to return or whether he should return to Major Carter and inform her that Dr. Sefton was not presently available.

Just as he had decided he would return to Major Carter's office, the door was pushed open, and Dr. Sefton herself entered. Her short hair was clipped neatly back and she was flipping through the charts on a board and making notations, even as she entered her room. She did not notice Teal'c.

"Dr. Sefton," Teal'c spoke softly, hoping not to alarm the good doctor. He was aware that many people considered him intimidating, not least because he often did not make his presence clearly known.

She raised her head and blinked at him and her expression lightened. "Oh! Mister Teal'c! You've come for Major Carter's test results." Her words were swift, tumbling from her mouth with all the enthusiasm Teal'c recognised in someone whose life study lay in academic pursuits. As the Doctor shuffled through papers and "I have calibrated the Altonian machine to an Earth day and tested it in the same methods as were used for the Verizan machine. The results are unexpected; a difference..."

"Such explanations are better left to those who understand them, Dr. Sefton," Teal'c said, although not without kindness. He had experience in dealing with the enthusiasms of his own team-mates.

"Oh, of course..." The Doctor held up a file. "Here are the reports for the Major... I trust that she is well?" Hazel eyes looked anxiously at Teal'c.

"She is well," he affirmed.

"Good! That's very good. Of course, thirty-seven is quite old to have your first child... I understand she's going to bring it up alone?"

Teal'c hesitated slightly before answering. He was not sure if this information was his right to divulge. However it was common knowledge that Major Carter was quitting the Air Force to be a full time mother to her child, which suggested that she would have no partner to support her at such a time.

"That is my understanding."

The Doctor nodded. It seemed she noted Teal'c's reluctance to answer, because she smiled briskly, "Tell the Major that if there is any assistance I can give her at this time - advice or practical help - then she is most welcome to ask." At Teal'c's arched brow, she looked a little sheepish, "I have a little one of my own. She's a handful and a half, but beautiful. Luckily, my husband is great with her - really adores kids, so I get the option to work." She waved a hand to encompass the SGC complex above and below her small office. "I can't imagine Major Carter wanting to leave here - there's so many exciting things happening..." She smiled tightly. "Well, I won't keep you any longer." One hand indicated the file Teal'c now carried. "If Major Carter has questions about those results, she can call me."

Teal'c inclined his head at the scientist, "Thank you, Dr. Sefton."

As he walked back to catch the elevators back to the level of Samantha Carter's office, Teal'c considered the two conversations.

On one hand, it appeared that Samantha's pregnancy was a matter of hot discussion on the base. Teal'c was not unaware of the speculation regarding the father of the child. While it was known that Samantha had dated Detective Shanahan for some time, it was also questioned whether one of her team-mates might not have fathered her child. Even officers were only human, it was said. Surely there was the possibility that, in a moment of relief after the heat of battle, lines had been crossed in the need to reaffirm life?

Such speculation was minimal, dismissed by the senior officers as swiftly as it rose. However, it seemed that other speculations were being eagerly pursued by the base personnel - as shown by the women whom Teal'c had overheard. Certainly, it appeared that Detective Shanahan's response to the news had not been as subdued as Samantha had hoped.

In this much, at least, Teal'c could see decided similarities between Samantha and the Detective. Both selected a course of action and clung to it with all the tenacity of a Goa'uld to the spine of its host.

Samantha had clung to her relationship with the Detective until she could no longer ignore the difficulties inherent in it. Her recovery from its end had not been easy; and yet, since then, nothing had become easier.

It appeared that the Detective was going to do the same regarding Samantha and her child. It went further than his avowal of determination in the park on Sunday; since then, he had been sending Samantha cards and flowers nearly every day, attempting to woo her.

Daniel Jackson had been the one to report this back to O'Neill and Teal'c on Wednesday. His assumption of the right to divulge such information was concerning Teal'c not a little. While O'Neill displayed as little emotion as his self-control would permit, Daniel Jackson was taking a distinctly proprietal interest in Samantha's pregnancy and state of mind.

As he departed the elevators and strode down the hall towards Samantha's lab, Teal'c considered that there would come a point at which his pregnant team-mate would snap at Daniel Jackson. Like a rubber band stretched beyond endurance, she would reject his concern, quite possibly choosing to flee in the direction opposite to that which Daniel wished; away from her team-mates and friends.

There was little to be done about the matter. Daniel Jackson's concern only stung O'Neill to distance himself from it even more, which made Daniel all the more solicitous. Teal'c had already given his measured suggestion to Daniel Jackson, although he knew better than to attempt such with O'Neill.

Neither man would listen, both staunchly convinced of the rightness of their own views and actions.

So Teal'c chose to stand between them, ignoring their behaviours, and choosing to make his assistance available to Samantha at such times as she required it. Much like Dr. Sefton, he made his offer in good faith and must hope that Samantha Carter took it as such.

The faint sound of voices in Samantha Carter's office gave him pause.

He stopped just short of the door, not wishing to intrude as she spoke with careful patience to someone. "...told you it was unreasonable."

The response came, distantly tinny, the voice emitting from the speaker of a phone. "Unreasonable to want to see my son or daughter grow up?"

"Unreasonable to want us to be one big happy family," Samantha Carter said. Teal'c noted the tiredness in her voice. Had he been required to describe her at this moment, he would have chosen to see her as sitting at her desk, her elbows firmly planted, one hand on her forehead as her other held her cellphone to her ear.

"But we _were_ happy once..."

"Pete, I've already said that the reasons we broke up are still there. They're not changed by this child..."

"They are! You won't be working all the time and there won't be any secrets between us..."

"That's not the reason we split."

"No, the reason we split was because you were spending all your spare time..."

"I had no spare time!"

"But you had enough spare time to have dinner with them!"

"That was on Sunday, Pete. It had nothing to do with you..."

"Doesn't it?"

"Is that why you've been sending me the flowers?" Samantha asked tiredly. "Don't. I don't want flowers..."

"You just want me out of your and your child's lives," Detective Shanahan said. Even through the phone and the distance there was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice.

Samantha's voice grew sharp. "If I did I wouldn't have told you I was going to have the baby at all!"

"Then why won't you..."

"Because it didn't work."

"It could."

"We've been through this before."

"No, _you've_ been through this before. You always do this, Sam! You make all the decisions about our relationship and I only get consulted after the fact..."

"That was _not_ the case!"

"What was I supposed to do? Sit and take it quietly while my girlfriend kept secrets from me?"

"It didn't stop you from following me around trying to find out those secrets," Samantha said, and there was a hint of her more caustic tone in her voice.

"I love you! I didn't want anything to come between us..."

"Pete," she said, and now Teal'c heard the struggle to keep her voice even, "We are going nowhere with this conversation. We discussed this the other night, and I'm at work right now. We don't need to discuss this again."

There was silence, before Detective Shanahan snapped, "How surprising that it's about your work again."

"It's not about my work. It never was." Major Carter enunciated her words carefully, as though speaking to a child. "Don't call me here again."

There was a pause, possibly one taken aback, although it could also have been Detective Shanahan preparing his final sally. "Yes, _sir_. Whatever you say, _sir_."

Teal'c entered the lab as Major Carter switched off her cellphone. She glanced up at him as he entered, then looked back down at it. "Shouldn't have it on here anyway," she muttered as she shoved it in desk drawer. "It interferes with the electronics."

He placed the report on her desk. "Dr. Sefton sends her regards."

She took the file with a quick smile of gratitude. "Thanks, Teal'c."

Teal'c nodded and paused, trying to think of a way to describe the doctor's offer to her. He could not think of any way to introduce the topic without being stilted. Perhaps later.

"Teal'c?"

He regarded Samantha, sitting slightly hunched at her desk, staring at the report but without actually seeing what was written there. "Samantha?"

Her mouth twisted a little, "You gave up bringing up your son to come here and fight the Goa'uld. Do you...do you ever regret that?"

In situations like these, honesty was the best answer. Samantha wished to know and Teal'c was not averse to telling her. "Every day." He wished he had been there to bring up his son, to watch him grow in word and action, to teach him the way of a warrior and the ways of the universe. But he had served Apophis out of fear, then betrayed the Goa'uld and served his people out of pride and love and hope. He had served alongside SG-1 to see his people free. Even his son's adolescence had been forced to come second to that.

As she considered his words, he added, "I could not both watch my son grow, and fight against the Goa'uld at the same time," he said. "I had to trust to Drey'ac and Bra'tac to bring Rya'c up in the way a father hopes for his son."

"But you had people you trusted bring him up instead."

"That is so."

Samantha's expression was pained, "I don't have people I trust to do that."

He had no answer but a confirmation of what she had said, so he remained silent and watched her struggle.

"I thought that maybe, if he looked after our child, I could continue to work here." She gave a soft little choking laugh. "Have my cake and eat it too, I guess," she murmured sadly. "I'm used to having that around here."

Teal'c considered what to say. "You are valued in the SGC, Samantha."

"And valuable?" Samantha asked, her cynicism clear.

"That also. However, you should be made aware that Dr. Sefton offered her assistance and advice if you have any inquiries or requirements during your pregnancy. She has a daughter of her own and would be happy to help you if you are in need." Teal'c was vaguely aware that the requirements of a child were manifold here on Earth. He had been on Earth long enough to witness the children who possessed every possible kind of toy and comfort available. He was unaware if that was the style of life Samantha wished for her child, although it would be no surprise if it were. This child was most likely the only one she would have.

At that, Samantha's cynical expression turned to surprise. "She...she would?"

"It was her wish that I make that clear to you." From what he understood of Earth culture, such offers were common enough. It simply would have been that Samantha had been in no position requiring such assistance previous to her pregnancy.

"Thank you for passing that message on," Samantha said, gently. "And for getting the report." She surreptitiously rubbed at her breasts, and Teal'c turned his head enough that he need not witness her attempt to alleviate her discomfort.

To hide his own unease with her action, he asked, "Is there anything you require, Samantha Carter?"

She glanced up at him, flushing a little. "I am a bit hungry," she admitted.

He went down to the commissary to get her some items of food, and returned with what she termed, "Enough food to feed an army, Teal'c!"

"The appetite of pregnant women is legendary," Teal'c said, "Even among the Jaffa. However, should you find yourself unable to complete this, I will be more than willing to assist you." It was an offer that she might have expected from Jonas Quinn rather than from Teal'c, in all earnestness and quite seriously.

But it made her laugh, which was what he had wanted.

----


	7. Under Siege 2

(Since I forgot to post them with Under Siege: Part One)**  
**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: My genfic 'Hostage Situation' is a prequel to this story. It is not necessary to have read 'HS', however it will help with some minor references. In timeline, we went AU before the Season 8 episode 'New Order' and everything that has happened since then is not included in these pages.

Please note, this story contains very strong Sam/Jack UST; if that is not your cup of tea, then pleased don't read the story and then whinge about it containing S/J.

**Secrets and Shadows: Under Siege**

**Part Two**

In the early evening hours of the late summer's day, Sam knew what would be waiting on her doorstep when she arrived home.

She was right.

This time, they'd arrived in a box, black, with a clear plastic window. A dozen red roses.

Sam left them on the porch, along with the other floral offerings.

The flowers hadn't abated in a week. Nor had the cards or the phonecalls she no longer answered. The only grace she was given was the fact that Pete had been on duty roster up in Denver every day for the last eight days. She anticipated at least two more days of peace before he got a day off and came to plead his case in person instead of inundating her with gifts and impassioned speeches about how much he loved her and wanted to be with her and the child.

The message bank flashed at her; one message. She dumped her bag on the table and began to put the groceries away. She didn't play the message. No guesses who it was from or what it was about.

As she yanked her boots off and padded to the kitchen in smelly sock feet, Sam reflected on just how frightening it was to be the focus of such a campaign.

She yanked off the socks and tossed them at the boots, not caring when they bounced several feet short of her footwear. Three months ago, she'd have tucked the socks neatly into the boots. Now, she didn't have the energy to be bothered.

A tub of Ben and Jerry's chocolate fudge brownie ice-cream welcomed her home, its thick, textured flavour sliding smoothly across her tongue as she made her way over to the couch and flopped into its comfortable depths.

For the first time, Sam could see why being stalked was such a nightmare for film and movie stars. For the first time in years, Sam felt truly alone.

Her father was somewhere out in the stars. In six months, the SGC had heard nothing of the Tok'ra. They had vanished, presumably infiltrating noiselessly into the Goa'uld power structure.

Her brother was not exactly sympathetic. Although he hadn't said as much, he considered her pregnancy one of the best things that had ever happened to her, making her more 'appropriately feminine' in his eyes, and not another soldier like their father.

They were all the family she had, with the exception of the child who grew slowly and steadily, a deathknell to so many dreams and hopes she'd had.

She could almost hate it for that.

She dug up an extra big spoonful of ice-cream and sucked it off the stainless steel bowl, angrily. What kind of woman did it make her that she resented this child simply because it had interrupted her life? It wasn't as if the child had asked to be born.

_It wasn't as though you asked to be pregnant, either,_ a little voice hissed at her.

There were too many things happening in her life, and she didn't know how to deal with any of it. She'd never been pregnant before and she hadn't spent that much time around pregnant women, so she didn't know what to expect, or who to go to. She was feeling flat and stale and exhausted - and it was only the fourth month.

Sam needed to talk to someone, but there was nobody to talk to, not even her former team.

The rich brown dessert blurred before her eyes and she blinked the blurrieness away.

On Monday, General Hammond had sent SG-1 out with a mission. The Colonel had been gently strong-armed into taking a substitute officer on the team, and had complied, although Daniel reported that it was with marked reluctance.

Sam had embarrassed herself by turning up to the briefing, not even thinking twice when the briefing notification appeared in her email's inbox. She only realised her mistake when she reached the briefing room and saw Captain Jarrod Peyton sitting with her team.

Even then, she might have stayed for the briefing at Daniel's insistance if the Colonel hadn't said, "_I'm sure Carter has better things to do than this, Daniel._"

Her face had flushed with anger and shame and a lot of other emotions she didn't want to identify at that moment as she muttered an apology and fled. She'd been terse with Daniel when he appeared half an hour later, all geared up and just awaiting his pack. "_It's okay, Daniel,_" she insisted, as he tried to apologise for the Colonel's words. "_He's right. I'm not a part of SG-1 anymore._"

Sam reflected on that thought now, sitting in the comfort of her lounge room, neat and stylish, but unlived in and unloved.

She'd been a member of a team - and now she wasn't.

She'd been an officer of the Air Force - and soon, she wouldn't be.

She'd been in a relationship - and now she wasn't.

At least Pete was offering her the chance to be a part of that relationship again.

Something in her knew that it was wrong. Daniel was right: nothing would have changed between her and Pete but the fact that she was pregnant. And this time, he would have one more thing to hold against her, and she would have one less defence against him.

That didn't stop his offer from being any less attractive.

Sam Carter was tired of being strong. She was scared of being alone. And she hated that she felt that way. All her life, she'd tried to be stronger, bigger, better; not to let life - or any officer's prejudice - stand in her way because she was a woman. She'd tried so hard that when an officer came along who didn't actually care that she was a woman or that she could outthink him most of the time, she almost hadn't recognised the gift of his respect.

She hadn't wanted to recognise the gift of his affection.

Her breast ached a little, and she slipped her hand into her brassiere and massaged it, rubbing her palm lightly over the swollen nipple. The baby wasn't just changing her life, it was changing her body, too. She tried to deny it, to claim that the changes weren't all that many, but her mirror told her the unkind truth and her scales and wardrobe echoed the sentiment; she was putting on weight and her body shape was changing.

Sam felt like whining that it wasn't fair, except that she knew life wasn't fair.

Unbidden, she remembered the graceful slenderity of Melissa Sandringham; the clinging material of the dress that outlined a body firm of breast, trim of waist, and long of leg...

_Don't go there, Sam._

She'd kept the thoughts back for more than a week, now, refusing to think of the Colonel and the woman at his door. But they kept seeping in, like water into a leaky boat. She couldn't ignore them, the fact that the Colonel had someone in his life. Someone else. Someone who wasn't pregnant with another man's child.

Someone who wasn't Sam.

She'd found someone else to fill the role of lover in her life. Why shouldn't the Colonel?

_Because it hurts,_ she cried, staring at a picture of SG-1 that she had set on the wall. She focused on the tall, grey-haired man whose half-smile should have been cynical, but which Sam had always thought was just a little sexy. _It hurts to think that he's seeing another woman. Not just sleeping with her because he needs the sex, but actually dating her, getting to know her, sharing his life with her._

She had a feeling that Melissa Sandringham would never cross the line between wanting to know what the Colonel did for a living, and trying to find out through deception and stealth.

No, life wasn't fair at all.

Strangely enough, what seemed to hurt most of all was the evidence that he didn't even consider her a member of his team anymore. That she'd been discarded from his concern without so much as a, 'So long and thanks for seven years.'

Sam stood and put the ice cream back in the fridge then collected the bags she'd left on the dining room table and headed down the hall. She didn't want to remember that right now. She didn't want to consider what she'd done, how much she'd lost with this pregnancy.

She didn't dare, because if she did then she might go mad.

The house echoed, empty of any life but herself. That would change. In six months her every waking moment would be focused on the child that grew in her body now. Her life would change, this house would change, everything would change.

And if she wanted to have a child at all in her life, there was no way she could stop this from happening.

In her bedroom, she stripped out of her fatigues and tossed them to the side, then upended the contents of the shopping bags on her bed. Clothing tumbled out. Maternity clothing. High-waisted, low-riding, sizes ten and twelve and fourteen... Sam had always been slim - not more than a four or a six, but that was changing.

She picked out some slacks, then slipped out of her bra and went to stand before her mirror and look at her body.

As she looked at herself, face-on, then sideways, she grimaced. When she first started growing as a teenager, she'd bemoaned the fact that she didn't have any breasts to speak of. Over the years, she hadn't exactly filled out, but padded bras had given her a slight boost in that department.

She didn't need the padded bras anymore.

Her breasts were fuller, heavier, and they ached almost constantly. That was normal - or so said all her pregnancy books. Sam would just have to get used to the changes. She cupped one, fingering the nipple, and winced at the slight soreness.

From side-on, the changes were more noticeable: the shape of her breasts, the slight swell of her stomach, curving out from what had once been a reed-thin body. Four months in and, from all accounts, the baby was perfectly healthy, no sign that either the gate travel or the naquadah in her blood was affecting its development at all.

As her hand rested over the slight curve of her belly, Sam felt torn by conflicting desires.

At one end, she hated this child and everything it represented. It was a stranger taking up residence in her own body; a possession more total and changing than Jolinar, and without reverse.

At the other, she felt intensely protective about it. This was going to be her child and nothing was going to get in her way or hurt it. Not even her own regrets.

Was it usual to feel as though there were two of her, pulling her in two very different directions? Sam didn't know and there were so few people she could ask.

_Dr. Sefton had offered help last week._

_Yes, but are you sure she meant it? It might have been pure politeness - or avid curiosity..._

Sam knew she was being talked about on the base. It was certainly gossip-worthy news. A prominent member of the SGC accidentally becoming pregnant and having to give up her career? To say nothing of the question of who the father was.

Just because she didn't participate in the gossip didn't mean she didn't know what was being said about her. She chose not to listen because she'd always figured she couldn't do anything about it, and she supposed she was better off not knowing, more often than not.

Right now, she guessed that the betting was whether or not she'd take Pete back. The pregnancy was causing occasional migranes that reduced her to a frozen hunchback over her desk. General Hammond had caught her in the midst of one on Friday, coming to see her at her office. He'd sent her home, driven by an airman who helped her up to her door in spite of her protests that she was fine.

Four discarded bouquets sat on her porch then. The number had since doubled.

The next day, the news had been around that Pete was waging a war to get her back.

And Sam wasn't so sure he wasn't winning.

In the end, there was nobody else to turn to. Nobody else who wanted her. And it had been nice to be wanted, even if he didn't have the faintest idea about who she was, what she'd been, and what she could be. Pete thought her sexy and desirable, and it had been a long time since she'd felt that way to any man.

Sam stared at her body in the mirror, running her hands over the new contours, trying to see her figure through the eyes of a man. Sexy? In another few months she'd look like a beached whale as the baby took over her body. Stretch marks would develop across her stomach and breasts as the baby grew within her and her skin failed to expand with the change.

_You were never all that much to begin with,_ she told herself, bitterly. _Pretty eyes and blonde hair, and that was all that most guys ever saw._ Not that her looks had ever been her means of advancement.

Not that any man would look at her pregnant body and care that she could develop a particle accelerator in less than three months. Not that any man would care that she developed a particle accelerator in less than three months so he shouldn't have to be in exile for over a year.

In the mirror, her eyes met those of her reflection nakedly, for once refusing to hide what she'd done or why she'd done it. The pleasant lies had served her well enough for over four years, before they crumbled under the weight of the truth.

She'd cared about a man she shouldn't have; given him her loyalty and affection, and if she hadn't buried it six feet beneath a stone that said '_Denial_' on it, then she might have seen that there was no way this story would end well.

Especially not when the bastard writing the script didn't believe in happy endings. Fate was a bitch, and then you died.

Sam touched her breasts again, fingering them gently. For a moment, her hands rested on her body and she imagined the Colonel's hands on her, his mouth on hers, at her throat, on her nipple...

The fantasies had never been anything but brief yearnings, momentary lapses of the imagination in which she let her desire rule her, before the cold force of her usual control returned. Such imaginings might cause a brief aloofness from the Colonel when she saw him again, but she'd dismissed them as nothing more than the instinctive reaction of a woman to a desirable man.

It was tempting, now that her hopes in that direction were irrevocably gone, to let her mind continue with the fantasy, laying down on the bed and letting her mind and hands do for her what he had never asked permission to do. Part of her scoffed that it was the hormones from her pregnancy making her horny; but another part wasn't so sure. And the thought was so appealing...

The doorbell rang, startling her from the heat of her desires and imposing arctic reality on her mind.

It was probably just as well that she'd been interrupted.

She dressed, quickly and carelessly, as the doorbell rang again, insistent with the tenacity of a door-to-door salesman.

"Coming..." she muttered, grumpily as she reached the door and yanked it open.

Then she stared.

Pete glared at her from her doormat as he indicated the dead and dying flowers sitting on her porch. "Aren't my presents good enough for you, then?"

----

Jack nearly didn't drop in to Carter's on the way home.

Daniel put the bug in his ear the instant they were through the Stargate and on the Targonian planet, and there was no stopping him. Jack listened and mostly ignored it. Mostly.

What did Carter expect from him? Only what she'd ever expected from him: commanding officer and nothing more. Well, he wasn't her commanding officer anymore, he was just one more officer that outranked her on base. Without that connection, that left basically nothing.

'Nothing' hurt more than he'd expected.

And that was the problem.

He'd realised that the instant he first turned to Captain Peyton and barked out a command, tagging 'Major' on the end without thinking. Peyton had been as embarrassed as Carter when she walked into the briefing room and realised that she hadn't needed to come.

Jack's apology had been terse, and even Teal'c had commented on his temper for the remainder of the mission. Nor was his state of mind helped by the fact that they _could_ have done with Carter's presence on the team.

Not to mention Jack missed her.

_Definitely_ not to mention.

He'd silently admitted the lack as he changed into fatigues, preparing for the debriefing. He verbally admitted it as he told Hammond that if they'd gone a month ago, the Targonians would have been all over Carter. He admitted it as Daniel hauled back on Jack's shoulder after the debriefing and put Bug Number Two in Jack's ear.

Daniel told Jack that if he wanted to keep his head firmly up his ass, he was more than welcome to do so, but he should at least apologise to her for what he'd said when she turned up in the briefing.

The street was mostly empty; Carter lived in a part of town that seemed to be populated by retirees. Possibly where Jacob had originally intended to live out the remainder of his cancer-ridden days, before the Tok'ra gave him a new lease on life.

He parked his truck behind a station wagon, paying little attention to the neighbourhood. He'd come here to apologise for being a bastard, and he would. But nothing more. She didn't deserve anything more. Certainly not any explanation about Melissa. Jack's private life was none of her business, just as her private life was none of his. She'd made that clear enough over the years.

At the top of her porch steps, he paused, frowning a little at the bouquets that sat, wilting in the summer heat. The most lively-looking ones were roses, still sitting in their elegant box, unopened.

It seemed Shanahan _had _been bringing out the big guns.

Jack wondered how Carter was responding to the overtures. Not apparently very well, if the wilted state of the presents was any indicator.

So he knocked on the door, and stuck his hands in his pockets, waiting to be answered.

_Just apologise and go. Don't stay to talk, don't stick around to watch her, don't think that this changes anything, because it doesn't. You're not friends and you never were. Nothing has changed._

That was the game plan.

He heard her footsteps, soft and barefoot, as she came to answer the door. "Yes?"

She looked flushed. Dishevelled. Harried. And yet, somehow, something in her appearance bypassed all his good intentions and went straight to a part of him that simply said,_ Nope, nothing has changed._

Life was _so_ not fair.

"Sir."

He opened his mouth to say something, and stopped as a man appeared in the hallway behind her, and laid one possessively on her shoulder. "Colonel O'Neill."

At that moment, he only had eyes for Carter, for the way her gaze skittered away, ashamed.

_Game over, Jack. You lose._

There would be time later to rage, to grieve, he told himself. Right now, he had to put a good face on, to gather his remaining fragments of dignity and make an escape. He wouldn't bleed here, not before her. She deserved that much; to never know how close her former commanding officer had come to making a complete idiot of himself on her front porch. He owed her that much dignity.

But it was hard to breathe at that moment.

Husband, wife, and baby made three. A perfect family. And the intruder standing on their doorstep, staring hungrily at the woman he couldn't have and never would.

No, life was not fair.

"Carter... I was just in the neighbourhood..."

He'd come to build up the bridge he'd ruined two days ago, even if he was determined not to cross it. He'd wondered if maybe she might need him in some small way. It wouldn't change the fact that she was carrying Shanahan's child, but it would at least give him something in her life - as a friend, nothing more.

Stupid.

It was with a sense of surprise he realised that, in spite of all the nice lies he'd fed himself about just coming here to apologise, he really had come with the intention of being friends again. Or as close to friends as they ever got.

It wouldn't change the fact that she was carrying Shanahan's child. It wouldn't change the fact that he was still angry that she was carrying Shanahan's child...

It wouldn't change the fact that he still cared.

But it would have been...nice.

'Would have been.' That was the trick.

"I see I'm interrupting," he said, scraping together every trick of control and composure he'd learned in nearly thirty years of serving in the Air Force. It nearly wasn't enough. "I'll go..."

His weight had transferred to one foot, preparing to turn on his heel and leave. _Just walk away, Jack. You were never a player in this game anyway..._

Then Carter changed the rules. "You're not interrupting," she said, swiftly. "Pete was just about to leave."

He'd dropped his gaze to her shoulder - the shoulder unoccupied by _his_ hand. Her words brought his gaze back up to her face in surprise at the edge of desperation there. And hope - a tiny tendril - blossomed.

"Sam..." Shanahan sounded shocked, and there was anger and suspicion in his eyes as he glanced at Jack.

"We have nothing to say that we haven't already said," Carter stated, turning so she pulled her shoulder out from under his hand. "Nothing that you haven't already left on my answering machine."

Jack didn't look at the untouched flowers wilting on the porch. He didn't look at Shanahan, either. Instead, he watched Carter. Her expression appeared implacable at first glance, but years of reading her expressions showed tightness around her eyes, the mouth just a shade too thin for the determination she was projecting.

True to form, Shanahan wasn't one to take 'no' lightly. "I won't let you bring this child up without me, Sam. Every child deserves to know his father..."

"And mine will," Carter said, subdued but not submissive. "Just not in the way you want."

For a moment, Shanahan looked as though he might stay and argue it out. Then he glanced at Jack and his lip curled in anger as he turned back to Carter, "It's always about what you want, isn't it?"

Now she froze over, wintry reserve shutting her down until she was about as welcoming as the Antarctic wastes in the midday night. "We aren't having this discussion again, Pete," she said. "Please leave."

He argued the point of course, but Carter could be a cold-hearted bitch when she chose. Shanahan sulked his way down the path to the mailbox. Without a word, Jack moved past Carter, and into the house. The invitation was unspoken, but he was fairly certain he hadn't misread it.

He hadn't. Behind him, the front door closed, but it was a few more moments before she emerged from the hallway, her face schooled to neutrality. "He wasn't supposed to be off-duty for another two days," she said, and now Jack clearly heard the tiredness in her voice. "I thought I wouldn't have to..." Her voice drifted off, and she shook herself, like a woman waking from a dream. When she spoke again, her voice had the usual Carter-cool to it, as though Jack hadn't walked into the middle of a not-so-domestic argument between her and her former boyfriend. "How can I help you, sir?"

"I..." His fingers shuffled through the letters on her table, not seeing the addresses and business stamps at all, just looking for something to fiddle with. "I came... Daniel said I should..." _Oh, hell... _"I came to apologise for what I said in the briefing the other day."

"You were right," she said with the perfect correctness he'd come to hate over the years. It was Sam Carter saying what she thought should be said, not what she wanted to say. "I'm not a part of the team anymore, I had no right to be at the briefing..."

"Carter!" He barked, interrupting her. "Will you hear me out? No, you're not a part of SG-1," he said, "That doesn't mean..." He paused, and glanced down, "That doesn't mean you're not part of the team anymore."

"With all due respect, sir..."

"Screw respect," he told her, angry with himself and with her. "You're _still_ part of the team. Even if we didn't still want you with us, you'd be part of the team," he muttered. "The number of times Captain Peyton got called 'Major' or 'Carter' or 'Sam' because Daniel or I reacted on automatic... I think the only one who got it correct every time was Teal'c, and even he kept glancing around to make sure you weren't going to pop up from behind some bush..."

Jack sneaked a look at her, and found her watching him apprehensively. Then, finally, "Thank you."

He relaxed a little. She'd accepted his apology, and he felt a damn sight better for it. Oh, she'd probably be angry for a while longer, and he'd feel guilty for having snapped at her - he should have known better considering her condition - but they were over that hurdle.

On the other hand, the other hurdles were considerably less easily navigated.

Like Shanahan.

"Have you been having much trouble with him?" He jerked his head at the door, indicating the vanished police detective.

She shrugged, "Nothing I can't handle," she told him, defiant. Sam Carter 101: Never Let Them Know You Can't Handle Anything - It's An Admission Of Weakness. "So," she said, moving into her kitchen, "How did the mission go?" Sam Carter 102: When Faced With An Admission Of Weakness, Change The Topic.

At least it was stable ground on which they could converse.

Jack gave in. "You'd have loved the Targonians," he told her.

"The Targonians?"

"Ancient Samurai culture," he said, leaning his arms on her counter as she began opening cupboards and the fridge. "Thanks," he said as she held up a bottle of root beer. "Daniel was all over them. Parallel development or something. But they had some very cool doodads."

"Doodads such as?"

"Oh, this thing that floated around in the air and could read your body temperature and health and stuff. They looked like those little floating sphere things in Star Wars." He waved a hand, knowing Carter would know exactly what he meant. She was Carter. "They just didn't shoot the tiny bolts of lightning. Might have been entertaining if it had."

Her smile was magic. Painful magic, but magic nevertheless. And she was listening to him as though he had something interesting to say. What man could resist that?

Not Jack O'Neill, that was for sure.

The kettle was filled with water and put on the stove to boil. "And I would have liked looking at these doodads?"

"They would have liked _you_ looking at these doodads," he told her, seriously. "Daniel has a word for the kind of society the Targonians had, but it's segregated. Men and women work in different areas and they're rigid about that. But the men have this whole warrior and defence culture thing going - they were all over Teal'c. The women have this science and technology thing." He cocked a smile at her, "Daniel was pretty peeved." _And so was I._

"He didn't get to play with the toys?" She dumped the teabag in her mug and got out a spoon with which to drink it.

"He didn't even get to _see_ them. The women who showed us the technology were extremely polite but wouldn't let us take one of the things back. They showed us how to turn the little floating health thingies on, what the doodads could do, watched Daniel try to escape his with their hands over their mouths so we couldn't see them laughing, even if we could hear them quite clearly, and then they collected their goods and left."

"Daniel tried to escape?"

"It followed him to the restrooms."

Carter smiled. "Sounds...interesting." There was no mistaking the wistfulness in her voice, and Jack decided he could make a suggestion.

"Maybe you could go with the next team," he said, softly. "I mean...everything's okay, right? And the...the baby hasn't been injured by any of your previous trips through the Gate..."

She'd frozen at his suggestion that she go with the next team and now he didn't know if he'd crossed a line he shouldn't have. The kettle whistled, and she turned away to pour water into her mug. When she turned back, she had herself under control again, but Jack had seen the moment of hope that had flooded her expression.

Whatever she wanted for this kid, there was no doubt that Carter loved her work. It seemed a crime that she'd have to give it up, even to be a mother.

She wasn't saying anything, and he started to fill the silence. "Targonia is a pacified planet; the guys look intimidating, but they're like Teal'c - teddy-bears on the inside." Carter snorted her tea, and Jack smirked. "The women wouldn't let anything happen to you, anyway. Most of their technology is health and family-oriented. I think you'd like it."

"I think I would," she said lightly, putting down her mug. "Maybe later on, when...things are bit more settled."

Somehow, he didn't think she was talking about just the pregnancy.

He wanted to ask about Shanahan, about what she planned to do about her ex. He could see what the guy was trying to do; what Jack couldn't tell was how Carter was responding to it all. She seemed to have it all together, but that was just Carter. Everything was together and if it wasn't then something was badly wrong.

So Jack drank his root beer in silence, watching her. Nothing had changed between them; they were still in limbo.

And maybe he needed to change that; to give some form of explanation where he hadn't wanted to give one before.

"Carter... About Melissa..."

"You don't owe me an explanation, sir," she interrupted. Her gaze was firmly fixed on the mug in her hands, but when she raised them, her expression was as cold as the one with which she'd thrown out Shanahan. "You owe me nothing," she said.

It probably wasn't meant that way, but it bit a little too close to the bone for Jack's comfort. He was painfully reminded of her standing in his hallway, close to fainting, but insisting that she was fine and didn't need his help.

No, Carter didn't need him. He should have known better than to think she ever might.

He took another swig of his drink; so did she. They avoided each other's eyes. And they didn't say anything.

Jack had this sudden urge for something a bit stronger than root beer. And a desire to cause some serious injury. He should have known better than to come here, hoping that Carter might need him or his help. He should have known better than to suppose that anything he said or did mattered personally to her; after all, she'd moved on, right?

"So, I should mention the trip offworld to Hammond, then?" Back to the work topic. Work was safe.

"Please do," she said, and there was such formality in her voice that it only made Jack angrier.

It was an effort to resist the urge to bark at her, but he managed it, only saying, "Okay," as he stood up to leave. "I'll..." He paused. "I'll see you in at work tomorrow."

Of course, he probably wouldn't. He'd avoid her and she'd avoid him, and the only times they would exchange words would be when she came into the commissary looking for food and found him going through his paperwork. Oh, Daniel would try to do 'team' things, but she'd cry off, or Jack would avoid it, and nothing would ever be said or done between them.

Just as it had always been.

She let him out, past the wilting flowers, and Jack walked to his truck and didn't look back. As he slammed the door, he was surprised by how angry he was: at her and her damned independence, at himself and his own stupid, fragile hopes, at Daniel who seemed to know exactly how to get Jack into situations he didn't want to be in.

Fine. Jack was going to drag Daniel into a situation Daniel didn't want to be in. All was fair in war and drinking bars.

In his truck, he pulled out his cellphone and called Daniel.

The phone was answered almost immediately. "Did you see Sam?" That was it. No niceties or pleasantries, just straight to the point and damn the torpedos.

"It's lovely to talk to you, too, Daniel." Jack said. "How are you?"

"You saw me two hours ago and I was fine then. I'm guessing you didn't go and apologise to Sam."

"As a matter of fact, I did. Carter's fine. Everything's fine." Jack couldn't keep the bite out of his voice as he spoke. "Call Teal'c. I'll see you at Bombers."

"Jack?"

"Thirty minutes, Daniel, or I'm driving home no matter how much I've had to drink." Jack hung up and turned the cell off so Daniel couldn't call him back.

He'd never carry through on the threat of course, but as long as Daniel thought there was the possibility that he might...

Jack put the pickup into gear and drove out of Carter's neighbourhood like the Goa'uld was chasing his tail.

He _so_ needed a stiff drink.

----


	8. Under Siege 3

**Secrets and Shadows: Under Siege**

**Part Three**

O'Neill seemed to feel no particular need to talk, merely to keep his troubles to himself and drink quietly. Teal'c was not averse to allowing his friend to sit in the silence he seemed to crave, however Daniel Jackson was not inclined the same way.

"I'm guessing that the talk with Sam didn't go well," Daniel murmured as he settled down with his light beer.

O'Neill didn't answer, and Daniel Jackson looked to Teal'c for support. He received none. Whatever transpired between O'Neill and Samantha Carter was their business and Teal'c saw no need to intervene.

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

The bar wasn't terribly well-lit; O'Neill had chosen somewhere less-than-savoury to spend the evening, and although there were many people moving through the dim light, Teal'c distinguished most of them by the scent of their flesh than the set of their face.

Truly, the superior senses of a Jaffa were not always an asset when others did not share the same perception of the world around them.

Of course, he needed no heightened skills to identify the man who appeared at their mostly-silent table and sat down with them, uninvited.

"Hey guys." Detective Shanahan had the appearance of a man who was determined to be friendly. "How's it going?"

The most response he got was from Daniel Jackson. "What are you doing here?"

"Having a drink," the other man defended, indicating the beer he had placed on the table. Beyond him, in the darkness, Teal'c picked out the shadows of other men, watching. Presumably, Detective Shanahan was here with his friends for the evening, and had seen SG-1 here. "Celebrating being a dad."

Only Teal'c noticed the way O'Neill's fingers tightened briefly around his bottle. Daniel Jackson was too busy glaring at the detective, and Detective Shanahan was too busy watching Daniel back.

"Well," Daniel said, his voice light and sarcastic, "It certainly would have taken such a lot of effort to get a woman pregnant. I can see why you're celebrating."

If Teal'c had been a praying man, he would have prayed for patience. As it was, O'Neill merely warned, "Daniel."

"What, Jack? You don't think that it takes a bit more to be a dad than merely fathering the kid?"

"I think that you're out of line."

"And I think you've forgotten that I'm not like Sam. I don't have to jump into line when we're in non-combat situations."

"You rarely do when we are."

"See, that's a vicious libel," Daniel Jackson said, lightly. "But my point still stands. There's more to being a dad than thirty seconds of passion."

Teal'c considered the reference to the sexual act unnecessary. So, evidently, did O'Neill. Revulsion flashed across the worn face, and Teal'c reflected on the low probability of the three men walking out of this bar still as a viable team. Daniel Jackson was certainly achieving his goal - which appeared to be that of irking the detective; however, he was not endearing himself to his team-mates in the process.

"You don't think I'm good enough for Sam?" Detective Shanahan asked, his expression suddenly set in belligerent lines.

Daniel Jackson looked coolly back at him through his glasses. "Strangely enough, I don't."

The belligerent face turned to look around the table at the three men who probably represented his greatest allies - or his greatest enemies - in the war Detective Shanahan was waging against Samantha Carter. "And is that how all of you feel?"

Teal'c spoke before O'Neill could. His instincts suggested that while O'Neill's answer would closely resemble Teal'c's own, Detective Shanahan would be less likely to bridle at the subtle insult of it. "Our feelings are not of concern in this matter. Samantha makes her own decisions."

"But you guys are close to her, right?" Detective Shanahan was looking at O'Neill with a clear accusation in his eyes. "I'm pretty sure it's not usual for commanding officers to be visiting the homes of their former subordinates..."

O'Neill's gaze hardened as he returned Detective Shanahan's look, but all he said was, "You should be aware that things don't work the same in the mountain as out of it."

"Sure, sure. So," the detective said, lightly, "Got any tips for me, Colonel? I mean, you brought up your own son years ago, so you'd know a bit about parenting..."

Considering that O'Neill's son was over eight years dead, the request was not a little cruel. Was Detective Shanahan unaware of the pain he was inflicting upon the man who was 'close' to Samantha Carter, or was such a request calculated to hurt?

"Did you find that information out through Farretty, along with all the other information on my team, Detective?" O'Neill asked, and the edge in his voice could have cut through steel.

"I'm sure Sam mentioned it sometime while we were dating," Detective Shanahan said, off-handedly.

Teal'c frowned, unable to imagine Major Carter relating the circumstances of O'Neill's history to someone without his permission. She was very aware of the proprieties when it came to O'Neill, and to have divulged such information to someone of whom O'Neill had little respect...

It was unlikely.

Similarly, O'Neill and Daniel looked sceptical. "Carter wouldn't."

"Can you be so sure of that?"

"Sure enough," Daniel said. "And while you answered what you were doing here in the general sense of this establishment," he waved a hand at the bar around them, "You haven't answered the implicit question of what you are doing _here_ at this table."

"I'm just being friendly," Shanahan told him, snidely. "Polite. Seeing as I'm the father of her child and all, I figured that I should make an effort..."

"Spare yourself," Daniel retorted, "And us."

His words spurred the other man into anger. He leaned across the table, into Daniel Jackson's space, staring him down, "Look," he hissed, his face going red. "You don't like me, fine. I get that I'm not a part of your exclusive little group down in the mountain. But Sam is carrying _my_ child, and I'll let her bring it up without me over my dead body! So you'd better get used to the idea of me in her life, Jackson!"

Daniel Jackson looked as though he'd swallowed a can live worms, presumably because he could not deny any of it. The circumstances of Samantha's child were such that the father would have a say in the life of the child, and with a say in the life of the child, he would hold emotional sway over Samantha. And nothing her team-mates could say or do would change that.

The idea of Detective Shanahan as part of Samantha's life was something to which all her team-mates would have to accustom themselves. Their reasons for disliking the situation would vary according to the individual, of course, but that would not change that Samantha's child came with its father, and the likes or dislikes of Samantha's friends were immaterial.

"Your presence in her life will depend on Sam," Daniel Jackson retorted. "And it's, what? Seven floral arrangements and counting?"

"Eight." There was a moment when Teal'c considered the possibility that O'Neill had taken leave of his senses. To bait Shanahan at this moment was high folly, and something of which he had not considered his friend capable. Then O'Neill looked directly at Shanahan, "You want back into her life, fine. But you let her make the decision. You don't bully her into it. You don't seduce her into it. You let her make the choice and when she makes it, you live with it."

"I'm just sending flowers."

"You're also leaving messages," Daniel Jackson added. "Enough that she's deleting them without listening to them."

"She requested that you do not call her at work," Teal'c said, recalling the conversation he had overheard.

"And she had to ask you to get out several times this afternoon before you actually went." It seemed that O'Neill had been to see Samantha, then. Doubtless, Daniel Jackson was even now pondering what had been said that put their friend in such a bad mood that he felt the need to come here and drink.

Shanahan looked incredulously at the three men, before his lip curled in a sneer. "What is this - the Sam police?"

"Domestic restraining orders have been issued for less obsessive behaviour, Detective Shanahan," O'Neill grated out, his voice flat and harsh. "You should be aware of that in your line of work."

"Are you threatening me? I'm an officer in the Denver Police Department..."

"And I have an open invitation to dine with the President of the United States," O'Neill replied. His voice was barely audible, but there was a warning in his voice and his words as he spoke. "So what? Your position doesn't mean you can cross the line, Detective. You want Carter back? You keep in mind that we all come along with her - it's a package deal. You get her and the baby, you get us, too."

"So who gets to share her bed, then?" Shanahan asked, and although his question was asked generally, there was no doubting that the force of it was directed at O'Neill.

The more fool he.

O'Neill's throat worked, but his jaw was set in furious anger as he ground out the words, "You don't want to go there, Shanahan." And something in the way he spoke indicated that this was not a matter for laughter or mockery. This went to the core of who O'Neill was and the values he espoused. "Make all the plays you want, but if you continue to make a public nuisance of yourself, you'll find yourself in deeper water than you can possibly imagine." He looked pointedly over the detective's shoulder at the shadows beyond where Detective Shanahan's friends lurked, listening. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have drinking to do."

"Without you," Daniel Jackson added, acerbically.

Teal'c was surprised when Detective Shanahan took his drink and departed the table in a huff. His attempt at camaraderie - if attempt it had indeed been - had failed, and miserably. And Detective Shanahan did not seem the type to let another man have the last word.

Daniel Jackson muttered something in the language of the Ancients. Teal'c caught the cadence of it, but not the actual phrasing. O'Neill snorted, gutterally. He evidently retained enough knowledge of the language to know what Daniel had just said.

Then Daniel Jackson glared at O'Neill. "You realise you gave him _carte blanche_ to obsess over Sam, don't you?"

"He was already obsessing. What he hasn't yet done is left the decision up to her." O'Neill's fury was evident, but his voice was low, barely audible to his team-mates.

Neither Daniel Jackson, nor Teal'c commented that the policy O'Neill had named was exactly his own when it regarded Samantha Carter. Samantha made the decision and O'Neill lived with it. The difference was that he was willing to live with a decision that did not go his way. He respected Samantha enough to allow her the choice.

It was not in Teal'c's nature to wonder if they might not have been more accepting of Detective Shanahan had he shown himself more honourable. There was no way to know such things and the contemplation of them was a waste of time better spent in other pursuits. Yet Teal'c's time on Earth had changed him enough that he briefly questioned the possibility before discarding it.

"Do you really think he will?" Daniel pitched his voice so as to be private among them.

The older man's glare was plain and clear. "No, I don't," he stated. "Hell, he followed her around from day one, you really think he's going to stand by and let her make the decision if he can't influence it himself?"

"Which brings me to my next question," Daniel said, fixing his gaze on O'Neill. "What the fuck were you thinking when you said she should tell him about the child at all?"

"There was no value in hiding her pregnancy, Daniel Jackson. It would have been evident within a number of months."

"He's stationed up in Denver. How often would he have come down here anyway? With a bit of creative storytelling and some fudging of the numbers..."

"This is the real world, Daniel, not one of your epic texts about Boris the Bloodthirsty and the harem of forty thousand he kept. Shanahan might be dangerously obsessive, but he's not an idiot."

"Except when it comes to sitting down to drink with us," Daniel muttered. "And it's Barin the Bloodthirsty," he added, irritated by O'Neill's 'creative storytelling.' "And you still haven't answered me."

"I told you..."

"No, you still haven't told us the _real_ reason you were so adamant about Shanahan being told," Daniel insisted. "You haven't told us yet."

The silence was only marked by the chatter of people around them, the chink of glasses, the strains of music overhead. Teal'c regarded O'Neill's stiff expression with surprise. Daniel Jackson took a moment longer, but he also seemed surprised at the way their friend looked as he peeled the label from his bottle with smooth, fluid motions.

"Maybe it's not your right to know."

"Probably isn't. But it's brought you to the point where you're just about ready to hand Sam over to a man that I wouldn't hesitate to call a pissant dickwad were I inclined to label people as such."

It was hard not to smile at the brutal elegance of Daniel Jackson's statement. Neither O'Neill nor Teal'c could manage to keep an entirely straight face.

O'Neill pulled off the last corner of the label and discarded it on the table. "Finish your drinks," he said at last. "We'll go get pizza or something and I'll tell you there."

"We could go get pizza and go pester Sam," Daniel Jackson suggested. "She can have pizza, can't she?"

Teal'c was not so sure about the wisdom of that suggestion, "Samantha Carter may not wish our presence at this time..."

"There's no harm in asking," Daniel Jackson stated, pulling out his cellphone and beginning to dial.

O'Neill took the cellphone neatly out of his hands and terminated the call. "Leave her alone for a while, Daniel. Maybe after pizza, if she wants to see us."

Later, when they called from Luigi's Restaurant, Samantha was not entirely enthused, but neither was she reluctant. Teal'c was the one to speak to her, judging that he was the least likely to raise her ire under such circumstances.

He was aware that the degree of trust she rendered him was different to that which she tendered their other team-mates. While her appearances must be maintained around O'Neill, and Daniel Jackson's very conversational style did not lend itself to more confidential admission, Teal'c knew she considered him 'safe', and took care to remain so in her eyes.

"Will there be a problem with our presence in your household, Samantha Carter?"

"Not as long as you're all coming together," she said, her voice mild enough, although he heard the reticence that lurked beneath. "And only for an hour or so."

"We will not tire you," Teal'c promised, and he heard the smile in her voice as she answered.

"I know you won't, Teal'c." The emphasis on the pronoun indicated that she was not as certain of the other two.

It pleased him to be different.

"Is there anything you require that we could provide you from this restaurant?"

She asked for a spaghetti marinara with extra parmesan, and when he concluded the call, he returned to the counter to place the order with the rest of their food. Upon returning to his chair, he heard Daniel Jackson's clear question, "So, what are we going to do about Sam?"

"If you're referring to trying to make sure she doesn't take Shanahan back, then we're not going to do anything," O'Neill retorted. "If you're referring to the Samurai scientists, then I'll talk to Hammond."

"Actually, I was meaning...generally," Daniel said. "Since we're still thinking of her as part of the team, but she's not...actually working with us."

"We include her, of course," O'Neill said.

"Of course," Daniel Jackson echoed. "If I recall correctly, you were the one telling her she probably had better things to do..."

"I could have phrased that better."

"You could?" Daniel Jackson's brow rose.

"Stop that." O'Neill had little patience for their team-mate's antics. "She's pregnant, which means she's more emotional than she usually is. She's got a lot of choices she has to make, and almost none of them are options she wants to take. And to top all that, she's under siege from Shanahan trying to persuade her to go back to him. If Doc Fraiser was still around, maybe she'd be better to deal with this. Since she's not, it's up to us."

"I feel as though someone should be asking, 'Who ya gonna call?'" Both men regarded him, quellingly. His mouth curved, "All for one and one for all?"

"Daniel..."

Daniel Jackson huffed, still smiling. He retrieved his cellphone from Teal'c. "I'm going outside to make a call."

"Don't call Carter."

"Please, Jack, trust me."

As the doors swung shut behind him, O'Neill sighed. "It always worries me when he says that."

Teal'c took the moment to bring up a topic that had concerned him after the evening's confrontation with Samantha's former lover. "Do you believe that Detective Shanahan will continue to harass Samantha Carter?"

A shrug comprised most of his answer. "It's probable. He might let up for a while, but if she doesn't start swinging his way, he'll most likely escalate."

"He would not stoop to physical violence towards her."

"Probably not. Not unless he's pushed to it," O'Neill stated. "Or feels he's been pushed to it." There was a pensive quality to his friend's visage and Teal'c considered the revelations O'Neill had made to them earlier.

"You would not have resorted to the same behaviour had your wife left you without informing you of your son's conception, O'Neill."

With O'Neill's explanation of the situation with his ex-wife and son, many things had been cleared up in Teal'c's mind. He now understood O'Neill's reaction to Samantha's pregnancy on a new level; and although Teal'c did not necessarily agree with O'Neill's reasoning in that direction, he could appreciate why his friend had reacted in that manner.

"Stop that," his friend snapped, disconcerted.

"Stop what?" Daniel Jackson inquired, returning.

O'Neill stared at him. "That was fast."

"What? Oh, the call? I talk fast. Stop what?"

"Oh, just Teal'c doing his old Jaffa mind-reading trick again."

Daniel nodded sagely, "Ah, that. The good old Jaffa mind-reading trick." He slid into his seat.

"So, who'd you call?"

"Oh, just someone. "Daniel Jackson turned to O'Neill with an expression of calculated innocence, "Hey, Jack, what are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"

O'Neill regarded him warily. "Why?"

"Because there's someone I'd like you to meet."

----


	9. Under Siege 4

**Secrets and Shadows: Under Siege**

**Part Four**

The room was decorated in neutral colours, beiges and creams with the occasional deep earthy tint to provide an accent.

In the last year, Daniel had spent hours in this room. Possibly days. He'd become very familiar with its layout, with the coverings, the lighting, the pictures, the artwork.

"Linda, this is Colonel Jack O'Neill. Jack, this is Lieutenant Linda Daley."

Linda laughed. "Please, Colonel, it's just 'Linda' - as Daniel well knows." The look she gave Daniel was chiding.

"Then I'm just 'Jack,'" Jack told her, smiling as he held out his hand. "Retired?"

"Relieved, actually. I started with a commission, but when knee injuries conspired to keep me out of the active force, they had to stand me down," she shrugged. "I think I would have been doing pretty much what I'm doing now, anyway, so the old commission is just useful for getting me enough clearance to counsel the classified project workers."

"Like the Stargate project," Daniel said. "I've been seeing Linda for nearly two years now..."

"You make it sound so sordid, Daniel," she murmured, smiling.

He grinned at her, "...since I descended. She has a lot of clearance on the project."

Linda indicated a buff-coloured manila folder that sat on the fine wooden coffee table. "The details of my clearance are in the folder, if you feel the need to see them, Colonel."

"Jack," he corrected her, reaching for the folder.

She smiled. "Anything discussed in here is, naturally, classified, however the conversations are also recorded by the Air Force and the security clearance appropriate to the discussion is put on it by myself and one other. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Daniel can," he said, looking pointedly at his team-mate. "He knows how I like my coffee and he can get one for you and himself while he's there. If he's been seeing you for a year, then I imagine he knows how you take your coffee."

Linda smiled, and Daniel rolled his eyes, but got up and went over to the small kitchenette. Behind him, Linda and Jack were talking of military things, clearances and authorisations, her military history and his, and he was pretty sure that neither had much of an idea why he'd brought them together.

"You know," Jack was saying as he brought back the coffee, "Daniel said nothing about coming here in the last year. I hope you're not offended."

"It's not exactly something you advertise," Linda admitted, "So, no, I'm not offended. Although I am a little surprised to see you here. Daniel doesn't usually bring his workmates in to these appointments, and our monthly meeting was last Thursday. I gather that you aren't sure why you're here either."

"I thought he was bringing me along to see this dazzling woman he'd met and was going to marry in two weeks," Jack arched a brow at Daniel, but smiled at Linda.

"And now you see why I _don't_ bring them along," Daniel told Linda, who had just laughed.

"Why don't you tell us why you brought Jack along today, then?" Linda said, settling back in her chair with the coffee.

And that put the spotlight firmly on Daniel. Which was where he did enjoy being, sometimes. Just not now. "Actually, I had a favour to ask of you," he said to Linda. "A personal favour."

"That sounds serious," she replied, her eyes still twinkling a little, "Ask, and I'll do what I can."

Daniel took a deep breath and hoped that he'd still be welcome in the office after he made the request. "I want you to tell Jack what you told me about Kieran."

He knew it was a lot to ask. Sometimes it amazed him that she'd told him about Kieran at all, it definitely broke the doctor-patient rules, which wasn't something that he would have expected of someone like Linda at all. It was about as likely as Sam throwing off all discretion and starting a public affair with Jack. But she'd told him in confidence, and he wasn't willing to betray that trust and tell Jack on his own. Besides, he'd wanted to know what Linda made of Jack - and what Jack made of Linda.

She'd gone perfectly still, frozen, like a deer in headlights, and he wished he didn't have to ask it of her. But Jack needed to know what could happen, because it was plain to see that, in spite of everything, Jack still had Sam up on a pedestal. And Sam was only human. She'd made mistakes and she would continue to make mistakes; and in Daniel's eyes, the worst possible mistake she could ever make was the choice of Pete Shanahan as a permanent personal fixture in her life.

"Daniel," Jack said conversationally, "Remind me to take you out to the parking lot and beat the crap out of you when she's finished throwing us out."

"Jack..."

"No," Linda said, quietly, her cheeks flushed pink. "It's alright, Colonel. I understand what he's asking better than you." She met Daniel's gaze quietly. "And I understand why he's asking it, too."

Jack looked from her to Daniel, and came to a conclusion he didn't much like. "This is about Carter and Shanahan isn't it? You're interfering again."

"You haven't heard Linda's story," Daniel retorted.

"Ms. Daley, if you don't want to..."

She held up a hand, "Please, Colonel," she said. "It's alright. I know why Daniel asked and I understand." But her smile was a little forced, "We do what we must in the execution of duty, correct?"

"You're not commissioned anymore, Lieutenant," Jack said quietly. "And this isn't your duty."

"No. But there are some things you do out of duty, and some things you do because it's the right thing to do." Linda looked Jack in the eye, "And I have a feeling that you, more than most, know that only too well."

Jack snorted softly, before he sat back in the couch. "This is why I never much liked therapists," he admitted. "Too many secrets out on display." He fixed her with a stern gaze, "Are you sure about this?"

"No," she said simply, "I'm not. But Daniel's more than just a patient, he's become...a friend over the last couple of years. And while I don't know his precise reasons for wanting me to tell my story, I'm guessing that he feels there are parallels between my story and what your friend is going through now."

The glare Jack directed towards Daniel was sour, and Daniel knew he wouldn't be getting off lightly afterwards. He didn't care. Just let Jack understand that even smart women like Sam and Linda could make stupid choices that would chain them hand and foot. And even if Jack didn't see things Daniel's way, let him at least understand that Daniel was _not_ going to stand by while Sam made a mess of her life any more than he'd been able to stand by and watch Anubis pick off the Abydonians for the Eye of Ra.

"It's not a long story, Colonel, but it's a difficult one to tell."

"You don't have to."

"I appreciate that," she said, "But I will." Slowly, Linda leaned back, crossing her legs and leaning her arm on the armrest of her sofa chair. "I met Kieran in my last year of the Academy. He was a Captain, stationed out of Andrew's airbase at DC, Engineering background, smart, handsome, charming, all the things a young woman likes in a young man."

Linda smiled thinly. "He was also borderline obsessive, although I didn't find that out until later. We dated for two years, and the second year, I lost my commission because of a knee injury. A lot of my friends had just been posted out, and we were all over the place - in the US, overseas, everywhere. A lot of my friends became long-distance and I wasn't always able to talk to them.

"Kieran was a godsend. He was supportive, helpful, encouraging, loving..." She shrugged. "I took him at face value and fell in love. And then, once he was pretty certain he had me by the hook, he began making demands." Her eyes rose from her hands to meet Jack's. "Small things at first; asking me to dress this way for him, or come out with him, even when I didn't want to. If I refused, he'd get annoyed and would cast it up to me weeks later, sometimes even months.

"It got worse. I got a haircut without consulting him and he didn't like it and sulked until I changed it. He threw a fit when one of my friends came around one night after breaking up with his girlfriend, and I didn't kick Andy out like he thought I should..." She sighed. "I had reasons for his behaviour, of course. Excuses. He loved me, he wouldn't hurt me, he just wanted his girlfriend to look good when we were out together, he wasn't sure that I loved him as much as he claimed to love me..." Her shrug was a little sad, regretful with the things she'd seen, but hadn't paid attention to until it was too late.

"Why'd you stay with him?"

"Because when things were good, they were very good," Linda said, gently. "It was just that when they were bad, they were horrid. And a woman will make a lot of excuses for a man she thinks she loves."

"You were trained in psychology," Jack began. Linda nodded.

"But there comes a point where you don't want to find yourself applying your job to your home life," she pointed out. "So I overlooked his behaviour, or explained it away where I could. And it worked out okay, most of the time. He was usually off in DC, and I'd come up to see him every now and then."

Her gaze flickered out to the walls and the degrees hung up on them. "By then, I was getting a Doctorate in Psychology and Behavioural Studies, hoping to find some work with the Air Force. Kieran didn't like the idea of my counselling all the loonies who'd come back from the wars with their brains dribbling out their ears - his words. I objected to being controlled, and started seeing less of him - not going over to his base in DC so often, not calling him quite so much.

"He became jealous of the time I was putting into my studies, although he was over in DC. He'd try to call me when he knew I was busy, just to talk. I got to turning my phone off, and ended up getting calls demanding where I'd been all night and who I'd been with. Whether it was night classes or library studies or papers due... It didn't matter. I wasn't there when he thought I should be, and that was unacceptable to him." Linda shrugged. "I broke it off. Told him we weren't going to see each other again, and that it was over. Two weeks later, I realised I was pregnant."

"And you called him back and told him."

"And he persuaded me to go back. I didn't have any other options," she said. "I hadn't finished my doctorate, and I wasn't able to do the work I wanted without it. My family were unsympathetic - they hadn't wanted me to go into the Air Force in the first place - and my mother is strongly Catholic. I didn't have friends close enough to lean on; Kieran was the only solid support in my world, so I went back to him."

"How long were you with him?"

Linda held up one hand, showing Jack the engagement ring and wedding band on her finger. "Technically, I still am. The divorce hasn't come through - and probably won't for a while. Kieran's good at ignoring things he doesn't want to see; and the little wife slipping out from his grasp is definitely in that category. And there are the kids."

"How many?"

"Two. Seven, and five." Linda glanced at Daniel before she returned her gaze to Jack and spoke distantly. "You try to keep it all together for the kids, even though you know better. You think that you can do it for them, because any father is better than none, right?"

"Ability to father a child doesn't make a man a good Dad, Jack," Daniel said, deciding that he could say something now. "You learn that when you foster out."

Jack didn't acknowledge his contribution. That was okay. Daniel wasn't expecting him to. "You stayed with him for seven years?"

"Five. I left two years ago. But it's still ridiculous, isn't it?" Linda said, and her voice was reflective. "A smart, intelligent woman, knows about the kind of psychoses possible in people, she should have known better."

Jack said nothing and she continued.

"I did know better. But when it came to the pregnancy with Elise, I was uncertain of everything; my life, hers, what my family would say, what people would think of me - a nice girl. Kieran promised to be there for us and at that moment, that was all I wanted. The fact that I would have to change everything I was, that I would spend the next five years trying to live down to his expectations of a good little Air Force wife - those weren't things I considered at the time. So I walked into the parlour of the spider."

During the recital, Jack had kept his eyes on Linda, watching her expression as she related the story. Now, he glanced at Daniel, "I'm guessing that Daniel has told you about our team-mate and what she's going through."

Daniel was a little hurt by Jack's lack of trust in his discretion, but Linda shot him a reassuring smile. "He told me very little, actually. Mostly where it related to Sarah Gardiner and her capture. However, I was at the park when Major Carter informed her ex-boyfriend of the pregnancy. He made quite a scene."

"And your estimation of him from that one outburst?"

"I'm not exactly an impartial observer," Linda stated, a faint smile curving her mouth. "Daniel has already biased me. Then, too, a single outburst isn't always an accurate indicator - not without further behavioural observation."

"But if you had to?"

Her gaze was steady on Jack's face, "I'd say he's been trying to persuade her around. Possibly her refusal to respond to him is frustrating him enough that he's confronted one of you over her refusal, or maybe tried to make nice." Her eyes were distant, "I suspect that by now he'd know that you guys are the key to her life, but he also views you as the greatest threat to his influence over her. It creates a conflict that doesn't present an easy solution, so he swings between nice and nasty." Focus returned to her gaze and she regarded the two men on her couch with a smile. "How am I doing so far?"

Jack's expression was sour. "Right on the money."

She didn't take any obvious pleasure in her estimate, she simply nodded. "It'll probably be the pattern of his behaviour as long as he's thwarted. He might escalate, he might not. The difference in outcome will depend on whether your friend has anyone there for her or not. If she doesn't think she has any alternatives, she might very well take him back. Sometimes, a woman will make what she subconsciously knows is a bad choice, rather than face being alone."

"Carter's not like that."

"Maybe not normally. But she's pregnant. It plays havoc with the hormones. And her pregnancy means she's going to have to give up a lot of things she'd come to accept as usual. Everything she's been accustomed to is going to change, and there will be few constants in her life. If this man presents himself as a constant - even a bad one - her reason may say not to take him, but her instincts will grab for him like a floatation device on a sinking ship."

Jack looked at Daniel, who returned his gaze with perfect steadiness before Jack turned back to Linda. "The decision is up to Carter."

"Yes," Linda said. "But I know that if I'd had people around who cared about me and were willing to support me, I might not have chosen to stick with Kieran." She met Jack's gaze clearly and evenly. "And I'd have saved myself seven years of a relationship that never worked in the first place."

And that was what Daniel had brought Jack to hear.

They walked out of the room over an hour after they'd first walked in. Jack had continued to inquire after Linda's details, including a lot of stuff that Daniel didn't think was relevant at all. Linda answered all the questions, though, and seemed very good-natured about everything.

"Thank you for your time, Linda," Jack said, shaking her hand at the end of it. "I'll probably be seeing you again sometime soon." He didn't elaborate, but nodded and began to walk out.

Daniel waited until Jack was nearly at the office door before he quietly asked, "Saturday night?"

Linda looked a little startled, but nodded and smiled. "Bring ice-cream."

"The pistachio," he promised and followed Jack out.

As they walked out into the slanting afternoon sun filtering down through the trees in the parking lot, Jack asked the question Daniel had rather hoped not to hear. "So how long have you been dating?"

"We're not." Technically, it was true.

"Then how long have you been going over to her house on Saturday night and taking ice-cream?"

"Only a couple of times..."

"Daniel..."

"You know, Jack, contrary to what you might think, I didn't bring you here to see Linda to get the O'Neill stamp of approval."

"I know. And I still think you're an interfering SOB, Daniel."

"Is her life what you want for Sam in another five years?"

"Dating you?"

Daniel reminded himself that Jack had many more years of experience in hand-to-hand combat. Smacking him on the back of the head was not a good idea - not if Daniel wished to keep all his teeth. "With seven years of a failed relationship behind her?"

"One man does not represent all of them," Jack said shortly. Daniel could understand his terseness; there was a lot of conflict inside his friend. It went further than just Sam and Shanahan, or his memories of Sara's reticence to tell him about Charlie; Jack's own complex relationship with Sam was conflicting with his sense of what was right - and probably confusing what Jack thought Sam should do.

Daniel figured it was time to do some careful reminding. As they walked towards the truck, he asked, "Do you remember how much she changed after the incident with Sarah? It was all 'we're going to do this because Pete wants to' and 'Pete doesn't like me doing that.' All of a sudden, he was God; his word was her command. She wouldn't take our chocolates because he didn't like the idea of other men giving her presents! Never mind that we'd been doing it for years and if any of us were going to jump her we'd have done it years ago. And that was just the tip of the iceberg, Jack."

He paused at the car. "Shanahan wanted to control her; her choices, her decisions, her life. He still does. How many flowers do _you_ think is appropriate to send a woman when she doesn't return your calls and doesn't apparently want to talk to you, Jack?"

Jack's mouth twisted. "He wants to bring up his own kid..."

"Jack, I know you're reliving the thing with Sara and Charlie again, but will you get your head out of your ass and see that the situation is entirely different?" Daniel was beyond being polite about this. Jack's situation was in the past. Sam's was going to affect her future. "You and Sara were married, you had a commitment, and you were having issues at the time. That's very different to Sam having broken up with Shanahan because he didn't respect her boundaries!"

Neither man headed to their door of the truck. Instead, Jack faced Daniel over the hood of the car, and his voice was sharp as a razor held at the throat. "Believe it or not, I want Carter to be happy, Daniel. But she has to do the right thing."

"The right thing by a man who is eligible for a domestic restraining order? Or the right thing by Sam Carter? They're not the same thing."

"Daniel..."

"Jack..." Daniel refused to give ground on this. "I wish there was some way she didn't have to tell Shanahan, but I concede that telling him was the right thing to do. But I'm not going to sit around and watch her cave in to his demands to get back with him because she doesn't have anyone else to turn to!"

This time the silence lasted long, and when Jack's eyes rose from the gleam of sunlight on the hood, Daniel could see that Jack had conceded that much at least. He added one last thing. "Last night, you told Shanahan that we came as a package deal with Sam. Did you mean it?"

"Yes."

"Then start acting like it," Daniel said, bluntly. "I won't say I'm not happy that our support of Sam decreases the chances of her taking Shanahan back, but I'm not going to withhold support of Sam's right to choose her own life just because I feel the father of her child should get first say in what happens to both mother and child."

"You make it sound parochial."

"And isn't it? The child is half hers, and I meant it when I said that the ability to get a woman pregnant is no factor in suitability to be a father - let alone a husband."

"Now who's letting their history interfere with the present?" Jack mocked. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the doors of the truck.

"That was a generic observation," Daniel retorted as he climbed into the truck. "It works in the specific as well, but the observation was general."

"And who gave you the right to make the judgement call?"

The accusation of arrogance bothered Daniel less than it once might have. "Someone has to. Otherwise we're floating in a sea of relativism and no way is up."

Jack settled himself in the driver seat and glared at Daniel. "Support all you want," he said, simply. "Just don't interfere." Then he started up the truck and they drove out of the parking lot and into rush hour traffic.

Daniel kept his cynical amusement to himself. Jack had no idea how late it was for that advice.

----


	10. Under Siege 5

**Secrets and Shadows: Under Siege**

**Part Five**

Sam couldn't stifle a chuckle when she came out from her afternoon nap and saw what Teal'c was reading. '_How To Live With Your Pregnant Wife_.'

He raised his eyes from the book and regarded her owlishly, "It is a most educational text, Samantha Carter."

"I didn't know we were married, Teal'c," she said as she crossed the room and sat down opposite him.

"Were we on Chulak, there would be grounds for me to claim you as my wife," he stated. "According to the ancient texts, the only woman who may handle a warrior's staff weapon is his wife. You have handled my staff weapon many times, therefore, according to Chulakian law, you are my wife." Dark eyes twinkled at her, although the rest of the face changed little, "Although there is debate about exactly what 'staff weapon' they are describing. Under the second definition, I believe you would be exempt."

Sam laughed. "No offence, Teal'c, but I believe I'm glad we're not on Chulak."

His mouth curved a little and he inclined his head to her. "Do you feel rested?"

"I do," she leaned forward and began shuffling through her books. "I promise not to be so grumpy this evening when Colonel O'Neill and Daniel arrive."

The guys were due to arrive tonight, having promised to cook dinner. Sam wasn't entirely sure about the sudden 'togetherness' aspect that the Colonel seemed to be encouraging. It smacked of overcompensation.

She'd protested it to the Colonel on Wednesday when he came to her office to speak with her about it.

"_Sir, there's really no need..._"

"_There is._"

"_You were right..._"

"_I was wrong,_" he interrupted. "_I was wrong and I had my head up my ass - as Daniel keeps telling me - and I shouldn't have snapped at you in the briefing._" He stared at his hands. "_Look, we're a team. We've been a team for as long as the SGC has had teams. We're still a team, in spite of the fact that you're no longer going to go through the Stargate with us. We're the first, and the best and the closest, and we're not going to give that up. _I'm_ not going to give that up._" The concession was highly unusual, for him; he almost never made things personal between them, and it shut her up long enough for him to regard her and ask, "_Or do you want us to stay far, far away from you?_"

She didn't. Not really.

The long and the short of it was that he was in her life to stay, and Daniel and Teal'c with him.

And that was that.

It really wasn't such a terrible thing. It just took a bit of...adjustment. And a lot of tears which she'd cried in the privacy of her bedroom with her pillow pulled over her head.

He'd moved on. She would have to do so, too.

So, tonight, when he turned up with Daniel, she'd be herself again. She'd laugh at his jokes and hope for the quiet, proud looks he sometimes gave her when he thought she wasn't looking. She'd ask about Melissa without turning a hair, and really listen to his answer. And if she needed a few minutes in the bathroom to breathe deeply and regain her composure, she could always blame it on the not-just-morning sickness. Like the pregnancy sickness, it would eventually get better.

Just one more adjustment she would have to make in her life.

As Teal'c resumed his reading and Sam regarded the array of books and journals on her coffee table, she contemplated the thought that all these decisions would have been so much easier to make if her hormones hadn't been swinging between partying like there was no tomorrow and waking up with the hangover that meant tomorrow was already here.

And one decision in particular.

Now that her team-mates were rallying around her, the most pressing issue Sam was facing was what she was going to do about Pete.

Sam sat back and rubbed at her stomach. She'd have to talk to Pete pretty soon; she was due for an ultrasound. It would be polite to set a time when he could make it. Of course, that would mean actually calling him to talk about the baby.

Unsurprisingly, she didn't want to talk to him.

The flowers had stopped, although the calls continued, but he hadn't turned up at the door since Monday. She'd spoken to him once since then, a conversation that went nowhere - like every other conversation she'd ever had with him. When he didn't get his way, he pleaded, he cajoled, he charmed, and when he didn't get it, he sulked and snapped at her.

No, nothing new about that.

She'd call him on Monday about the ultrasound, and speak with him then. Leave the weekend unsullied by yet another argument.

Although it appeared that it was already too late to hope for that.

The chime of the doorbell rang through the house and Sam winced as she rose to her feet to answer it. The Colonel and Daniel weren't due for another two or three hours, and she didn't get too many other visitors other than her team-mates; she never had.

"If you desire, Samantha Carter, I will deal with the person at the door myself," Teal'c offered.

"I can handle it, Teal'c." Sam couldn't rely on the guys for everything and she usually didn't need to. It was just all the hormones in her, making her feel that it would be nice to have someone wrap her up in cotton wool and treat her as though she was precious.

She hated herself for the contradiction. She could be strong and independent and tough and she wanted someone to respect that, but at the same time, she wanted to be precious and cared about and adored, and she needed someone to see that in her.

Most people she worked with saw the first aspect of her but not the second; Pete had seen the second aspect, but had never managed to respect the first.

Sooner or later, she'd have to learn to deal with him on her own. The guys were here now, but they wouldn't always be around to bail her out.

How hard could it be?

She took a deep breath as she padded down the hallway to the front door. But a glance out through the curtains showed a somewhat unexpected guest.

It was Malcolm Barrett.

He looked very different compared with all the previous times she'd seen him in his persona as an agent of the NID. Dressed in jeans and a sports jacket, he presented as though he were an ordinary guy and not...well, not an agent for one of the most secretive organisations in the US intelligence community.

Sam blinked once, then opened the door to him. "Agent Barrett."

"Major Carter." He glanced over the t-shirt and sweat pants she'd put on for a comfortable day at home. "I'm guessing you weren't expecting guests."

_Certainly not you,_ she said, mentally. Out loud, she just observed, "And to what crisis do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Agent?"

His smile was surprisingly mischievous, reminding her a little of a boy she'd known in junior high who could cause all kinds of trouble without ever getting caught. "No crisis, although I could probably arrange to have one created if you wish."

"I think I'll refuse, thank you," she told him with aplomb. "There's quite enough happening around here at the moment."

"What's new about that?" The blue-grey eyes twinkled at her before they glanced over her shoulder to the corridor beyond. "May I come in, or did you want to conduct this conversation on the porch?"

Sam stepped back and waved him in, "We're having a conversation?"

"I know it's hard to believe," he said. "But we are. Or we need to." And the note of seriousness in his voice worried her.

Sam closed the door behind him, "What's happened?"

Barrett regarded her in the shadowed hallway. "You tell me." He pulled out a letter and handed it to her.

The paper crackled lightly in her hands as she unfolded it.

It was a printout of an email.

_From: __samanthacartercheyenne.gov_  
_To: __kayleebvendrossapollyon.gov_  
_Date: 6th August, 2004  
Subject: tests_

_Dr. Vendross,_

_Two years ago, you expressed an interest in speaking with me about my time as host to the Tok'ra Jolinar for the purposes of medical research. At the time, I was reluctant to submit to such a request and refused any further inquiries regarding my willingness._

_Circumstances in my life have caused me to reconsider this view and I am willing to undertake a series of tests - of my choosing and approving - in exchange for a favour of the NID._

_Please contact me if you are still interested._

_Major Samantha Carter._

It was somewhat unnerving to have her words returned to her in such a manner; through the hands of a man who she had never expected to see standing in her hallway. Sam folded the paper back up and handed it to him.

"It seems straightforward enough to me," she said calmly.

"It doesn't to me." Barrett retorted. "You've held off from these tests for two years and all of a sudden you want to cut a deal?" He glanced her over, blue-grey eyes lingering on the slight curve of her pregnancy, "Especially at this time, when you know you should be looking after yourself..."

No question about how he knew: if her pregnancy was public knowledge in the corridors of the SGC, it would be common knowledge in the halls of the NID. The question was what he was doing here, so clearly on his own time and not the company's, and with the apparent intention of talking her out of a decision that fell quite clearly in his organisation's favour.

"Agent Malcolm Barrett."

_Damn._ She'd completely forgotten about Teal'c.

He stood now in the doorway between the hallway and the living room, blotting out the sunlight's glow falling through her windows.

"Jaffa Teal'c." Barrett, it seemed, had developed his own sense of verbal humour in dealing with the stoic Jaffa. "Are you well?"

"I am well, Agent Malcolm Barrett." The formality of the address stood as an indicator of Teal'c's opinion of the agent. "However I am curious regarding these 'tests' you have mentioned. Samantha has not spoken of them at all."

Sam didn't quite wince. From the sound of it, Teal'c was withholding judgement right now, but when he found out about the plans for her deal with the NID...

"Teal'c, it's nothing," she began, "Just an exchange with the NID. I allow them to run a few of the more invasive tests they've been trying to persuade me into over the last couple of years, and in return, they leave me and my child alone."

"I see." Teal'c stated, thoughtfully. "And it will have occurred to you, Samantha, that the NID cannot necessarily be trusted in this instance?"

"I've taken steps, Teal'c," she assured him. "General Hammond is aware of the steps I've taken, including having all examinations take place at the SGC by personnel whom I trust."

"And you're so sure that we don't have ways of bypassing even those precautions?" Barrett demanded of her.

Sam wasn't, but to admit it would have been tantamount to handing herself over to the NID. She'd taken all the precautions she could think to take and insured it with a presidential edict and various layers of security. "Sure enough to make the offer."

She saw the flash of respect in his eyes and felt a moment of regret that his interest had only been made clear after she'd begun dating Pete.

"Then I see my trip was valueless," he said, lightly enough. "I apologise for taking up your time, Major Carter, Teal'c..."

"Would you care to stay for tea?"

Sam blinked as both she and Barrett turned to look at Teal'c. He regarded them with nothing more than a quizzically-tilted eyebrow. "Don't I get the right to choose my own guests anymore, Teal'c?" She was more surprised than annoyed at the invitation. The concession was not something she would have expected of Teal'c at all.

"Are we not married, Samantha Carter?"

Sam grinned; she couldn't help it. She grinned even harder when Barrett turned a peculiar shade of red and asked, "Have I missed something?"

But she had to excuse herself when Teal'c held up the book and let the NID agent read the title. Her bladder just couldn't hold out.

When she returned to the living room, Teal'c was being decidedly affable towards Barrett, and Sam was at a loss to know why. While asking the agent to stay with them for tea was not something she would have thought of, it was certainly nothing she would ever have expected of Teal'c.

It wasn't that she minded, exactly; it was merely that she couldn't escape the feeling that the Jaffa was somehow being sneaky in a very direct manner.

Sam made Teal'c take the rubbish out, telling him that if they were married, that was his responsibility. She'd just begun to fill the kettle when the phone began to ring.

Barrett looked askance at her when she let it go to the answering machine, but didn't move from his stool by the table until the caller left their message.

And this time, it was who Sam expected it to be.

Through the digital speaker system, Pete's voice echoed, tense with anger and frustration.

"Sam? Sam? I know you're listening to this. You haven't answered any of my calls, but I know you're not going offworld or anything like that..." There was some noise in the background. "Pick up the phone, Sam! We need to talk!" Sam didn't pick up and she didn't look at Barrett, although she could feel his eyes watching her as the silence lengthened. "Okay, so you're avoiding me. Look, we had our problems but all that's in the past! We need to have a conversation about this child that's going to last longer than five minutes - and which isn't going to be monitored by any of your friends. Just you and me - the way it should be."

_Just you and me, and baby makes three,_ Sam thought, wanting to laugh and cry all at once. She didn't dare pick up the phone and start talking, because it was very tempting to believe in his promise of happily ever after. She should know better, but, like Mulder on the X-Files, she wanted to believe.

The last couple of days had been good, with the guys around and supporting her. It had been better than she'd ever hoped considering she was off SG-1. And she knew better than to think that this was going to last, either. Crises would happen and missions would go wrong, and the odds were that they'd be taken away from her by something...

But wasn't that life?

"Christ," his voice became muffled and he spoke to someone off the phone, asking for a minute before he came back on. "Look, Sam, things are mad at work right now, half the officers are on leave and this case we've been working on... I don't have time to chase up all the calls you don't return and you're really just being stubborn. I could be a good father to our child! I want to do the right thing by you, but you won't let me because you're too busy thinking of yourself!"

There was some truth in what he was saying. Her reasons for holding off were selfish: she _didn't_ want to go back to what their relationship had been. She didn't want to live with the onus of always being the one in the wrong, always being the one expected to submit, always being the one on the off-foot. And that was how things had been when they were dating.

Was it selfish to want to be her own person? To want to have her experiences and history validated and accepted? To get to make the decisions about her life and her body? To be who she was - soldier, scientist, and woman, all three - and not have to make excuses or apologies?

She'd never been able to do that with Pete. He accepted her on his terms and his terms alone.

"Sam, our biggest problem was always your work, and now you're giving it up, it means we'd have more time to spend together, more time for our child. I only want the best for us and our child..."

He was rambling and seemed to sense it, because the plea in his voice vanished and now he sounded sulky, "I guess you're not going to pick up the phone then? Just answer one of my calls - you said you were willing for me to get to see my child, but you won't contact me - what am I supposed to do but leave messages?" There was a muffled exchange elsewhere, something about someone wanting to see him, and then Pete returned. "I'm going to call back tomorrow when I have some time off, Sam, you know I will. I told your friends that they should get used to me being in your life; you'd better get used to me calling you as long as you don't call back! So call me."

The beep signalled the end of that very one-sided conversation.

Without a word, Sam walked over and pressed the 'delete' button on the answering machine. Then she turned to Barrett and kept her expression as calm as she could manage. "What kind of drink would you like?"

He was still staring at the phone. "That was an informative phonecall," he murmured, looking at her at last. "That's the guy you were seeing back in March?"

"Yes." Sam had turned down his invitation to dinner at the time because she'd been seeing Pete. Given her pregnancy, and Pete's continuing obsession with her, it made the present situation was all the more humiliating. Even back then she'd been aware that not everything in the relationship had been quite as rosy as she'd tried to make it, but she'd figured that a man in the hand was worth two in the bush; even if the bushes were the NID and the SGC.

"And you get a lot of calls from him?"

"Enough." Sam thought of all the messages she'd deleted, the repeated pleas and accusations, the endless uncertainty of whether or not she could live with herself if she went back to Pete, and she felt a little niggle of irrational anger. Her hand clenched around the jar of coffee grounds. "It's like a story," she said harshly. "Girl meets boy, girl dates boy, girl sleeps with boy, girl gets knocked up by boy, girl dumps boy, girl discovers she's pregnant..."

Something in her was in disbelief, asking if she'd really said that to this man who was more or less a complete stranger. Before she knew it, her elbows were on the table and her head was in her hands, and she was crying and making a fool of herself.

_Hormones,_ she told herself, as she began wiping them away to no avail. _It's just hormones..._

Then there was an arm around her back, and Barrett was leading her back to the dining table and sitting her down with a firm and gentle hand.

Tears streamed down her face, dripping messily over her cheeks and chin and between her fingers, and she was flushed from embarrassment as much as the overflow of emotion. Sam hated not being in control of her emotions; and at this moment, she wasn't even sure why she was crying, let alone how she could get herself to stop.

Someone was rubbing her back in circles, telling her to take a deep breath. She tried, but the sobs kept bursting out of her, relentless.

Distantly, she heard the door open and shut, and Teal'c's voice, "What has happened to Major Carter?"

"She received a call from Detective Shanahan," Barrett answered, quietly. The hand on her back, which she suddenly realised to be his, didn't stop rubbing. "Has he been doing this much?"

"He has left many messages on Samantha's answering machine," Teal'c replied. She heard him moving about in the kitchen, and a moment later, a glass was laid on the table before her. "Major Carter, will you have some water?"

Her sobs had eased enough that she could drink the water, and she accepted the glass from Teal'c. By the time she'd finished drinking it, the hand on her back had vanished, and Malcolm Barrett was making his own coffee.

"There are cookies in the jar next to the kettle," she said, wiping away the last streaky trails of her tears. "If you want one."

Barrett shook his head. "The coffee will be enough, Major, thank you."

He didn't let her take over the process of making the coffee, although he did stand back and allow her to fetch creamer and sugar for him to add to his beverage. And neither he, nor Teal'c, said anything more about her breakdown or the event which had caused it.

Instead, the two men engaged in a discussion of exactly how much the NID had changed since the dismissal of Colonel Simmons and 'his branch' of that organisation. As a sideline, it appeared that they were disputing the degree to which Harry Maybourne's influence had remained in the section charged with the task of keeping track of the SGC.

Sam followed the discussion without getting involved. After the brief upset, probably hormonal more than anything else, she was feeling the urge to be sick. At present, it was just a pressure in her stomach, uncomfortable, but not requiring her urgent attention. Yet.

"We're not the same organisation," Barrett was saying, quite calmly for a man who'd just been accused of technological theft. "Not just in the matter of people, but in terms of our outlook. The people who were most influential in that direction are gone..."

"And yet Samantha Carter still feels it needful to set up an arrangement by which she and her child may live without fear of being used as experimental test subjects." Teal'c observed, but without the animosity that might have been expected of a man who had been the target of the NID's avarice enough times to make him eternally wary of that organisation.

Sam was astonished to realise that her team-mate was looking at Barrett as a possible ally in the NID. It should have come as no surprise; Teal'c had been trained to think strategically, even if he was not always required to use it in the service of the SGC.

"I can't speak for Major Carter's decision to insure herself against future policy changes," the NID agent said, wryly. "But it's a practical move. She would be more susceptible to exploitation of her state than most."

"Then do you have any suggestions on how I could become _less_ susceptible to exploitation of my state?" Sam asked, a little more waspishly than she'd intended.

"You seem to have already taken measures, if what you've said is any indication," Barrett said.

"But you came here to make sure I knew what I was doing."

"I did." That was all he seemed to be willing to say on the matter, although he looked a little flushed as he rose from his chair. "Thank you for the coffee, Major; and thank you for both the invitation and the discussion, Teal'c."

"You are most welcome, Agent Barrett."

As they walked down the hallway to the door, Barrett muttered, "Why do I get the feeling that he was vetting me?"

Sam shot him a smile, "Probably because he was." She dropped her voice even further. "And you should talk very quietly, he has excellent hearing."

They'd reached the front door with the white voile curtains that prevented most people from looking in, and as Barrett put his hand down on the doorknob, he asked, "Can he hear through glass and wood?"

Out on the porch, the neighbourhood was quiet with the somnolent peace of a Saturday afternoon. Sam stood in the sunlight at the porch's edge and lifted her face to the sun, closing her eyes against the piercing glare of its rays. Unconsciously, her hand rested on her stomach, and she rubbed it, feeling the discomfort of lunch settle a little more.

When she opened her eyes, Barrett was looking at her in a way that made her duck her head and blush. There was a very frank appreciation in his gaze, and something in her shied away from it, even as something in her grinned and unfurled in pure feminine pleasure at being admired.

Upon seeing her flush, he looked away, out at the street and spoke, almost distantly. "You know, I was going to come and see you a month ago."

"Why didn't you?"

His smile was rueful, and he looked as though he was missing a patch of grass to scuff. "Would you believe I chickened out?"

That elicited a laugh from her. She was so accustomed to dealing with him in a professional situation that the schoolboy manner was unexpectedly charming. "So seeing you here at all is a big step?"

"Pretty much." He looked out over the street and his demeanour changed slightly. "You know that your ex-boyfriend did a background check on you before he was authorised to know about the project."

"Yes." She knew. Pete had admitted it after he got shot in the stakeout. She'd been a little worried by the lack of trust he'd shown in her, but Pete had been very persuasive about how it was just a one-off, how he loved her so much he didn't want to be shut out of any part of her life... And she'd believed him, as much because she wanted to believe him, as because he could be very...persuasive when he chose.

"His contact in the Pentagon didn't have access and knew better than to dig any deeper than the top layer. Shanahan was advised against continuing his investigations. But he did. Which resulted in the scenario with Sarah Gardiner's Goa'uld."

Sam watched his profile, then looked him square in the face when he turned back to her. The clean-cut lines of his face were perfectly open, but, at the same time, carefully closed. This man understood secrets, their currency and cost, much like Colonel O'Neill. And, like the Colonel, he kept his secrets out where people could see, but didn't look.

"What else is there?" He wouldn't have gone this far if he didn't intend to tell her something - something important.

He turned his face towards her, "Understand that this whole conversation is off the record, Major." That was all the warning she received as he continued. "After the confrontation with the Goa'uld, NID tagged him as a security leak. His proximity to you, combined with his lack of discretion in the incident, landed him in the danger zone."

Cool summer zephyrs turned to chilly autumn breezes in a moment. Sam felt the beginnings of dread forming in her stomach, adding to the discomfort already there. "And what happens when someone lands in the danger zone?"

"Six years ago, he probably would have been met with an unfortunate accident." Barrett's smile was grim, and Sam was reminded of Armand Zelig's death.

"And now?"

"Just monitoring."

Sam had a feeling that 'just monitoring' was a little more rigourous than the agent made it sound. She also had a feeling that there was a warning in his words. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because your letter to Dr. Vendross indicates that you're having concerns about the safety of your child," Barrett said, studying her expression. "I'm pretty sure you've realised that you'll never be free of the project, Major, for the very reason that you're arranging the testing schedule with Dr. Vendross. For the rest of your life - and that of your child - you will be associated with the Stargate project, even if you never work on it again. As such, anyone who enters your life from outside the project will be checked and double-checked to a degree that would give the civil liberties unions nightmares until kingdom come."

"Including Pete."

"Especially him. Given the history of his indiscretion, his knowledge of the Stargate project, and his status as father of your child, he'll be under observation until the program is no longer under classified status." He suddenly seemed to find great interest in his hands. "I understand you're debating how involved you want him to be in your life and the life of your child," he said. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Your child's safety will largely depend on the security of the information about him or her. Information is power, after all. You may want to consider how safe it will be to have a man who doesn't understand the meaning of 'classified' around your child on a daily basis."

"Are you saying...?"

"I'm saying that loose lips sink ships, Major." The intensity of his expression seemed out of place in the somnolence of the Saturday afternoon, but she couldn't ignore his seriousness as he told her. "You'll probably find it hard to believe, but my organisation may not be the greatest danger to your child at all."

Her stomach was still churning when Sam came inside.

Teal'c had cleaned up the table and the kitchen - a nicety she appreciated - and was back on the lounge, reading intently. He regarded her with one arched eyebrow as she entered, but, upon observing that she was in no mood to talk, returned to his reading.

Sam sat back on her sofa and stared into space. She couldn't ignore the warning Barrett had given her. _My organisation may not be the greatest danger to your child at all._

Well-aware that Barrett's warning was probably not entirely altruistic, Sam knew there was an element of truth in his words. Pete's discretion was not exactly proven, his ability to leave things alone non-existent. A healthy curiosity was one thing; a failure to recognise when to step back became dangerous - to the individual and those around him. It became especially dangerous when dealing with projects classified by the military.

Not for the first time, Sam questioned the wisdom of telling Pete about the child at all.

"_Just because a man is capable doesn't give him the right to be a father..._"

"_And just because the woman gets to bear the child doesn't mean she gets a right to decide whether or not the father should be told_!"

Both Daniel and the Colonel had made good points from their differing histories. Daniel's experience as a foster child had moved him through many households before he reached adulthood, giving him the broader experience of people and families and family issues. In comparison, the Colonel's experience as a father revolted against the prospect of a man never being allowed to know his child.

But the Colonel had been right. Ultimately, there would have been no way to keep the child's existance from Pete.

Her gaze fell upon the books on the table. Somehow, in the last two weeks, she'd acquired more books on pregnancy and parenting than any single mother needed. Most of them stressed how the pregnancy would bring out any issues in the relationship between the parents and that clear lines of communications had to be established long before the child was born.

They had that much correct, anyway.

The question Sam wanted the answer to was how she was supposed to manage the relationship between Pete and her child, when her own relationship with Pete wasn't anywhere near solid.

Unconsciously, her hand crept to her stomach, cradling the slight swell of her unborn child.

There were too many questions and not enough answers.

**End of 'Under Siege'**

Part Three: **'Taking Sides'** will be up in a week.

**CHARACTER NOTES REMINDER:** For the character of Pete Shanahan, I extrapolated on the base of what the writers of the show gave us in the Season 7 episode 'Chimera' (obsessive, paranoid, manipulative, and inept) and simply haven't smoothed everything over with a 'no harm, no foul' at the end.


	11. Taking Sides 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: My genfic 'Hostage Situation' is a prequel to this story. It is not necessary to have read 'HS', however it will help with some minor references, particularly in this part of the story. In timeline, we went AU before the Season 8 episode 'New Order' and everything that has happened since then is not included in these pages. Characterisation of Pete Shanahan is taken from his depiction in 'Chimera' and nowhere else.

Please note, this story contains very strong Sam/Jack UST; if that is not your cup of tea, then pleased don't read the story and then whinge about it containing S/J**.  
**

** Secrets and Shadows: Taking Sides**

**Part One **

Teal'c was not sure why the movement caught his eye. Perhaps it was the colour of the scrubs she wore, or merely a lingering remnant of the sensitivity they'd once had to each other with naquadah in their blood.

He was not the only one to notice her, of course. Even amidst O'Neill's anger, guilt, and concern as Daniel Jackson was wheeled into the infirmary, his head turned towards her as she stood in the door of the room.

O'Neill later blamed himself for her collapse. It was typical of O'Neill to assume responsibility for something that he could not have helped. Upon hearing that her former team-mates were returned from a mission and that two of them required medical care, nothing could have stopped Samantha Carter from coming to check on them. And O'Neill's own concern for his team-mates, even one so new as Captain Peyton, would mean his bloodstained garb was the last thing on his mind.

It was, unfortunately, the first thing Samantha saw as she walked into the infirmary.

The shock, combined with her state of pregnancy, was enough to cause her to faint, for the first time independent of the application of drugs or alien influence.

"Carter!" O'Neill's cry rang through the room, cutting through even the orders of Dr. Brightman as she and her staff saw to Daniel Jackson. He was just in time to catch her before she hit her head.

A moment later, Samantha was being laid out on one of the infirmary beds, her unconscious pose mirroring that of her former team-mate. No sooner had she been laid supine than her eyes opened and blinked very fast as she took in her position and her state of body. "Sir?"

"Carter," he said. "Gave us a bit of a shock there."

Her gaze raked him from head to waist, noting the blood, questioning it. "You're not injured."

He grimaced, "It's mostly Daniel's."

"Daniel?" She turned her head towards the activity at the other end of the room. "What happened? How bad is it?"

There was no lying to her in the seriousness of the situation. Even if they could have brought their tongues to tell her that everything was all right, their faces would have belied their words. Samantha knew them.

"An ambush. It was bad." O'Neill forbore to elaborate. Instead, he indicated the mint green infirmary pyjamas she wore. "What's with the clothes?"

Samantha winced and her hand touched her stomach. "I was having an ultrasound when..." Her expression changed abruptly, a frown fled across her mobile features. "I left Pete back in the ultrasound room..."

Both O'Neill and Teal'c glanced back at the doorway which lead to the section of the infirmary where much of the specialised equipment was to be found. There was no sign of Detective Shanahan.

"Maybe he got lost," O'Neill said lightly.

There was no missing the look that passed between O'Neill and Samantha. Exasperation, affection, and wry amusement crossed both faces, and Teal'c felt both excluded and yet honoured by the unconscious intimacy they had no qualms showing before him.

In the week since O'Neill's determination that Samantha Carter would not face her pregnancy without the support of her former team, Teal'c had witnessed his friend's attempts to support the Major in her decisions regarding the baby and her desires for it. Including her wishes regarding Detective Shanahan's involvement in the child's future.

He was proud of both his friends for the strength of character and purpose they showed in their decisions. They were not easy decisions to live by, and yet they were the right decisions.

"I shall determine what has become of him," he said. He could do nothing here but stand and wait for the verdict on Daniel Jackson's health; his presence here would make little difference to anything that the infirmary personnel were doing. And his absence might afford his friends a little space for themselves and each other. Teal'c was nothing if not considerate.

As he walked through the infirmary rooms, Teal'c intercepted the glances of surprise and speculation at the blood-encrusted edges of his fatigues. His own clothing, although nowhere near as dramatically discoloured as O'Neill's, was still quite clearly muddied and stained and should be disposed of at the first available opportunity.

It did not take long to locate Detective Shanahan. He was still in the specialist equipment section of the infirmary, being guarded by an SF who had been assigned to his person while on the base. The grizzled old veteran fighter was well-known to Teal'c, and tendered him a terse nod of acknowledgement as Teal'c entered the room.

"Teal'c? What's going on? Sam just left in the middle of the ultrasound, and this guy won't let me go anywhere..." His eyes took in Teal'c's bloodstained clothing and he gaped. "Jesus, what the hell happened to you?"

"A mission." He made the statement as if it were of no moment. "The infirmary personnel are working on Daniel Jackson even now."

Detective Shanahan winced. "I'm sorry."

Teal'c inclined his head in acceptance of the condolences. As an officer of the law, the detective would have seen friends injured, perhaps even to death. He would understand the situation in which Teal'c found himself, even if he was not to be privy to the specific circumstances of it. "I believe Samantha is presently concerned with the state of our team-mate. Until she returns, it would be best if you would wait here."

"Wait! Why can't I go in there? I mean, it's not as though it's anything I haven't seen or don't already know about..."

"It would be best if you remain here," Teal'c said. Then he paused. Further away, more distantly, he could hear the timbre of familiar voices drawing closer. "Samantha is on her way."

Indeed, a few moments later, Samantha and O'Neill entered, side by side. Their faces were solemn but without any anguish that might have indicated a negative outcome for Daniel Jackson's health. "He's stabilised enough for them to start operating," she said, answering the question Teal'c had not yet asked.

"Daniel's tough stuff," O'Neill said lightly. "He'll be out of this in no time, like a rough wormhole trip. They'll keep Peyton in overnight to monitor him for concussion, but nothing to worry about on that score. The Captain has a hard head." As he spoke, his eyes had taken stock of the room and its occupants, and now he paused. "Shanahan."

"Colonel." Detective Shanahan was civil, but evidently not best pleased to see O'Neill. He immediately turned his attention to Sam. "Why'd you run off like that?"

He did not see the flicker of anger in O'Neill's eyes at the somewhat peremptory demand.

"I had to see what was happening," she said, her mouth set in a firm, stubborn line. "And Nurse Brennan was needed to check Captain Peyton anyway, so we'd have just sat there and done nothing." Certainly, doing nothing was not her style. "She'll be back in a minute, so we can go back and try the ultrasound again..." She took a deep breath and headed for the guerney. "I need to sit down."

She climbed onto the guerney, refusing Detective Shanahan's assistance in the process. Her eyes flickered beyond him to O'Neill and a look passed between them, although of what nature, Teal'c could not have said.

However, O'Neill seemed to understand what she wished to say. "Well, Teal'c and I had better clean up and go report to the General," he muttered.

"Will you be around later, sir?"

He arched a brow at her, "Probably. Why?"

Although Samantha's voice was even, she seemed almost as though she were holding her breath as she asked, "Would you like to come and see the ultrasound pictures when you're done? You and Teal'c?"

He tensed for a split second, nothing more than the slightest set of the shoulders. Then, in a voice that was carefully gentle, he answered her. "Okay. Your lab?"

"Where else?"

The slightest of smiles touched his lips, curving them for one brief instant, and then it faded, although the gentleness didn't leave his features. "Later, Carter."

"Later, sir. Teal'c."

It did not escape Teal'c's notice that his name was tacked on at the end, secondary to her need for O'Neill's approval in this matter.

It also did not escape his notice that Shanahan's expression had contracted in brief anger. It was a shadow that was brief and unfamiliar enough that he did not recognise the aspect until the other man smoothed away his displeasure.

But although the symptoms were gone, the canker at the heart of the problem would remain. Teal'c understood the nature of bitterness. The anger at his rejection by Samantha Carter would remain in the soul of Pete Shanahan long after the ultrasounds were displayed and exclaimed over, long after the child was birthed and its parentage proclaimed. He might forget it for a little while, but forgiving would be a considerably more difficult exercise to one not accustomed to it and without any reason to attempt it.

And in that knowledge, with that realisation, Teal'c was on his guard against Pete Shanahan. The man would bear watching; and Teal'c would watch him. He did not know what moves could be made against Detective Shanahan if the man chose to act on his bitterness, but he would watch for such signs and find out what could be done.

Perhaps Daniel Jackson had the right of it, and this attempt to share the child with Detective Shanahan would come to no good end.

Teal'c kept his thoughts to himself. They were not for sharing with O'Neill or Samantha Carter, and Daniel Jackson was in no position to consider them at present - nor gloat that Teal'c was taking his point of view.

However, he did observe one thing as the elevator doors closed behind them, sealing them into the small space. "You are not comfortable with his involvement in Samantha's pregnancy."

"No shit, Sherlock," O'Neill snapped.

Too late, Teal'c comprehended that his question had been badly phrased. And badly timed. It was, in fact, an error more customary of Daniel Jackson than of himself. But the statement was made, and O'Neill was in high dudgeon.

"My intention was not to anger you, O'Neill."

"Congratulations," his friend snapped. "You got a bonus deal. Make one really stupid statement, get one pissed-off Colonel free!"

Teal'c did not bridle at O'Neill's snarking. His statement had indeed been stupid, phrased as it was, and Teal'c was responsible for O'Neill's bad humour - at least in some wise.

"Please accept my apologies..."

O'Neill huffed, exhaling explosively as the elevator doors opened and he stormed out, past a quartet of surprised men. Such was his irritation that he had barely a nod of the head for Colonel Dixon and his team as SG-13 climbed into the elevator behind Teal'c.

They were in the locker room, O'Neill stripping and dumping his jacket with an excess of motion that spoke eloquently of frustration and anger at the situation, before anything more was said.

"How did you feel when we went back to Chulak and found out your wife had remarried in order to bring up your son?"

Unbidden, the memory of rage and resentment and a deep, deep pain came back to Teal'c. He had no need of answer. O'Neill had been watching him.

"How do you think I feel about his 'involvement' in Carter's pregnancy, Teal'c?"

"I understand, O'Neill," he said. "My words were spoken without consideration."

"Damn straight," O'Neill muttered as he collected towel, washcloth, and gel with which to shower himself.

Afterwards, as the drip-drip-drip of water into the drain slowly faded in frequency, O'Neill sat on the bench and stared at his bare feet beneath the hems of his blue fatigues. "If I'm being a bastard about all this, you're free to tell me, you know, Teal'c."

Teal'c considered the honesty of the statement, then responded, "You are being a bastard about some things, O'Neill. However, my question was indeed out of order, and your response was commensurate with that."

Laughter echoed momentarily around the walls, a harsh bark that O'Neill gave in dark humour. "Thanks, T."

They dressed silently and swiftly, both military men who were accustomed to neat presentation, but not excessive personal care. As O'Neill pulled on his boots, the locker room phone rang, shattering the stillness.

Teal'c answered it since his friend was otherwise engrossed with footwear. "This is Teal'c."

"Teal'c, it's Carter here. Is the Colonel still there?"

"He is."

There was a pause. "You'd better come down to the infirmary immediately."

They moved with rapid detemination through the corridors of the SGC. O'Neill's impatience extended to drumming the fingers of one hand on the knuckles of the other, which Teal'c abhorred, but on which he made no comment.

In the infirmary, they found Major Carter once again dressed in her fatigues. Her shoulders appeared tense as she stood at the window of the viewing room. Detective Shanahan was also tense as he sat in one of the chairs lined up against the wall, his expression set in carefully neutral lines. Teal'c wondered what air they would have seen in the face of the detective, had they caught him unawares. He nodded briefly at Sergeant Morrow then turned to the viewing window.

Beyond Samantha, clearly seen through the glass below, the infirmary staff worked on Daniel Jackson.

"Carter?"

"It's not going well, sir."

"Why not?"

"They don't know." She indicated the monitors which displayed some of the vitals statistics of their team-mate. "His blood pressure started dropping nearly twenty minutes ago. He's got internal bleeding, but they don't know where - and if they don't stop it..."

O'Neill strode to the edge of the room and looked out and down over the scene below. "How long do they have?"

There was a hopeless quality about her shrug. She turned away from the window, her eyes going first to Teal'c, then to Detective Shanahan, who patted the seat beside him. For a moment, it looked as though she would go and sit down beside him, taking the comfort he offered. Instead, she turned back to the glass window of the observation room and received a glance from O'Neill.

"Did you get the ultrasound done?"

Did she realise the cost of that question to O'Neill?

Teal'c was forced to conclude she did as her eyes widened in momentary surprise before she nodded. "All limbs present and accounted for."

One corner of his mouth twitched a little. "Any idea if it's a boy or girl?"

"I didn't want to know," she said simply. Her hand crept up over her stomach, probably without conscious thought as she automatically sought to protect the child that grew under her heart.

His eyes dipped down to note the placement of her hand, and he raised his eyes to hers and nodded. "Well, it's healthy at least. That's something."

It would be wrong for Teal'c to allow them to continue their unwitting intimacy, especially when Detective Shanahan looked much like a man whose resentment was on the verge of surpassing his better judgement. "It appears that Dr. Brightman wishes to gain our attention."

They turned to the viewing window in time to hear the doctor ask, "Colonel O'Neill, where exactly was Dr. Jackson injured? Did you see? Was he bumped anywhere that you might have thought was insignificant?" Her agitation was palpable; no practitioner wished to lose her patient to something as simple as internal bleeding. No practitioner wished to lose her patient at all.

"Not that I can remember, Doc," O'Neill spoke into the viewing room microphone. "Teal'c?"

"I recall nothing either, O'Neill."

"Well, would you tell me everything you recall from the moment you realised there was a problem until you returned through the gate?"

O'Neill glanced from Teal'c to Samantha, before his eye rested on Detective Shanahan. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room, Detective."

"I've got clearance..."

"Not enough to know about current missions," O'Neill said inexorably. "And we've been through this argument before, if I recall." The pointed reminder of the hostage-taking in downtown Denver over three months ago brought a flush to the detective's face. Detective Shanahan had repeatedly disobeyed requests to remain out of the conflict, and his presence had caused extra injury to O'Neill in the process.

"Sam..."

"You don't have clearance, Pete," she said, her own voice steady. "The ultrasound is done and you've got the pictures..."

"I thought I could wait around until you finish work. Take you home. Have dinner together..."

There was a split-second in which Samantha's expression was torn. Then she shook her head, "We'll talk about this later, Pete. Not while Daniel's life hangs in the balance. Go."

Bitterness briefly controlled the heavy features, but he went without too much hesitation. The SF followed after, as softly ubiquitous as snow in the Colorado winter.

As O'Neill began relating the circumstances of Daniel Jackson's injury, Teal'c pondered the brief emotion he had seen only too clearly seen in the detective's face.

That the detective resented his exclusion from Samantha's work was clear enough. However, the source of that resentment would not be lanced as long as Samantha Carter chose to include him in the child's life, but not her own. To have the one but not the other would be intolerable to Detective Shanahan, he would fight Samantha every step of the way in that matter.

Truly, Major Carter had locked herself into an invidious situation.

"...Teal'c dialled the gate, I scattered cover fire, the gate opened, we picked up Daniel and Peyton and ran through..."

"We've removed the shrapnel from his body," Dr. Brightman said. "Using the travois-style thing was a good idea. It minimised internal damage enough that we can stitch him up..."

"But you don't know where he's bleeding."

"Well, we're assuming there's bleeding because of the declining blood pressure, but it could just as easily be something else that we haven't looked at..." Even though the intercom, she sounded resigned. Below them, the hand that pushed back the edge of the surgical cap she wore, trembled a little.

"Sir," Samantha Carter said, and in both her voice and her face were an apprehension she could not hide. "I could use the Goa'uld healing device."

O'Neill turned on her, "What?

In spite of his growl, Samantha held her position. She repeated her statement, elaborating on the details, "I could use the Goa'uld healing device to determine where Daniel is bleeding."

"Carter, are you nuts? Do you remember when was the last time you tried to use the healing device?"

Her eyes went diamond-hard, "Yes, sir," she stated, just as harshly as he had queried. "It was when Daniel was dying of radiation poisoning."

"You're willing to risk that happening again?"

Samantha's mouth set, "Colonel, the circumstances were different." Even to Teal'c, it sounded as though she were trying to convince herself. "I was trying to use the instrument to heal him, and I didn't have the concentration to do so. This time, I won't be trying to heal him - just to work out where the problem is so Dr. Brightman can go ahead and operate..."

O'Neill's mouth twisted, before he shook his head. "I can't authorise that, Major. Have you even considered what using the device would do to your child?"

"I have. I think it's negligible compared to the risk of losing Daniel, sir."

"And if I don't think it is?"

"Then we spend the next ten minutes of Daniel's life - if he has ten minutes - arguing it until you see it my way and authorise it."

Her black levity was unappreciated, particularly at this moment. "Not funny, Carter."

"Sir..."

"If the price of Daniel's life is the life of your child? How do you think he'd like that?" O'Neill asked, harshly.

"It won't be. I used the ribbon device in Denver, remember?" Suddenly, Samantha took one step forward and depressed the button to activate the microphone. "Dr. Brightman," she called, suddenly drawing the attention of the personnel to the scenario taking place above them, "What is the likelihood of locating what's wrong with Daniel before his time runs out?"

If the doctor had any idea of what was happening overhead, she only replied, "Not very good, I'm afraid, Major. Our options are limited..." The woman had gone back to working over Daniel Jackson, her bloody gloves moving over the opening in the sheet, through which Daniel Jackson's insides could be seen. Another one of her nurses was delicately working on suturing the torn flesh, while others were gently probing for miscellaneous shrapnel.

"Thank you," Samantha said, and pulled her hand back from the intercom. "Colonel, it might be Daniel's best hope."

It was clear that O'Neill was torn. On one hand, Daniel Jackson's life hung in the balance; on the other, Samantha Carter's safety was in question. "Okay," he said at last. "But Teal'c's going to get the device while I call Hammond and clear it with him."

"Thank you, sir," Samantha murmured. "I'll be careful."

"You'd better," O'Neill muttered beneath his breath as he lifted the nearby wall phone piece from its cradle and dialled various numbers. "Teal'c, get to the armoury; I'll call you there when we have clearance."

Teal'c nodded and went.

The use of the healing device was authorised, and Teal'c returned to the infirmary bearing the box in which the device was stored. It was not an item that was commonly used; Samantha generally refused to acknowledge that she was capable of using the Goa'uld items that were activated through the naquadah in her blood.

Teal'c did not know her reasons and he did not question her about them. Samantha chose to fight in her own way; that was enough.

At the door to the infirmary, he found O'Neill and Samantha in discourse with Dr. Brightman. Beyond them, out of the circle of conversation, Detective Shanahan stood, not included in the dialogue but neither lurking in the shadows.

"...will allow this only if you're sure that the technology is safe for you to use," Dr. Brightman was saying to Samantha. Her surgical mask was pulled down around her neck, and the scrubs she wore were bloodied. "I don't want you trying to save Dr. Jackson at the expense of your own health."

"This won't hurt me or the child."

"Can you be sure of that?"

"Sure enough." She turned to Teal'c and held out her hands for the box.

A hand landed over hers. "Sam, don't do this."

It appeared that Detective Shanahan had not left the building after all. How he had persuaded Sergeant Morrow not to escort him up to the surface was a mystery, but he had evidently managed it.

She looked, not at him, but up at Teal'c, who merely opened the box for her. Detective Shanahan closed the box again. "Sam..."

Teal'c opened the box for her, and she took out the healing device without looking at her former boyfriend. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do at work, Pete. That's not even your right in my personal life anymore, either."

"And you don't know that this is safe," he said, putting one hand over hers. His voice was pleading. "What about our child?"

Now, she looked at him, and there was regret and determination both in her expression. "The child will be fine," she told him, choosing not to use the possessive pronoun he had. "I used the ribbon device on you and four other people three months ago, and the child is developing normally." Detective Shanahan didn't like the reminder of that affair; his grimace made his feelings evident. "If I don't use this now, Daniel will probably die." Her voice rang quiet and determined in the grey of the corridor. "And that's unacceptable."

Without a further word, she nodded at the doctor, and stepped past Detective Shanahan to enter the operating room.

Shanahan looked at Teal'c's impassive expression and O'Neill's even detachment, then turned on his heel and stalked off down the corridor.

--


	12. Taking Sides 2

** Secrets and Shadows: Taking Sides**

**Part Two  
**

Daniel was tired of two things.

He was tired of being drugged out of his mind. He'd been on pain meds for the better part of a week, and it was a pain in the mikta not to be able to think straight. It meant he spent most of his time mentally translating the daytime talk shows into other languages, and trying to find equivalent phrases for such sentiments as 'Chew dirt, bitch!'

The second thing was that he was tired of being stuck in the infirmary all the time.

Yes, he had been shot during a retreat from P7T-995, but he was alive, wasn't he? And he was healing much faster thanks to Sam's efforts with the Goa'uld healing device.

Of course, from here on in, it was going to be his own body's abilities that got him better. Jack had laid down the law regarding Sam's use of the healing device yesterday afternoon. Daniel had wondered about that while Sam was healing him, but he'd still been under enough painkillers not to question it until later.

"_Go talk to Brightman, Jack,_" Daniel said at last. "_She's the one who allowed Sam in with the healing device. I was mostly on Jupiter._"

Jack raised an eyebrow, "_Why Jupiter? It's cold out there._"

Daniel shrugged, "_Random planet,_" he told Jack, yawning. Jack had left shortly thereafter, presumably to chew Brightman out for not taking a stand against Sam.

Not that anyone could really take a stand against Sam when she had her mind made up.

Daniel frowned, and gently reached down to scratch his hip where it itched. Come to think of it, that could be said about any member of SG-1.

_One more day and you're allowed out of bed. You can walk through the halls of the SGC and go back to your lab, and maybe even get driven home to sleep in your own bed..._

There probably wasn't much chance of him getting to sleep in his own bed. But even the ability to go up to his lab and _do_ something would be valued right now.

Daniel Jackson was antsy as all hell.

Meanwhile, everything was calm around him. No emergencies, no dramas, not even a peep from Shanahan - at least, none that Daniel had heard of.

And that was worrying Daniel.

Pete was playing nice guy, running errands and taking Sam out to dinner. Sam, for the most part, seemed to be lapping it up. Daniel didn't get it. Just because the guy was playing nice now didn't make him a nice guy. It just meant he had brains enough to know that pissing off the three men closest to Sam wasn't a good idea - especially if he had any aspersions to getting her back.

Linda's ex-husband could play nice, too, when he chose. Daniel had even witnessed Kieran's 'nicer side' - and then gotten a close-up of the nasty when Kieran got the idea that Daniel was 'the other man' in his ex-wife's life. Luckily for Daniel, seven years working in the midst of macho military men had taught him a few things about how to head off confrontations without losing his cool.

But it made him wary of the kind of guy who would think nothing of calling his ex-wife names in front of the kids, but cuddle his children as he told them how much he loved their mom. And yeah, it was personal to Daniel, but that didn't mean he wasn't correct in his judgement call.

According to what Sam would tell him, things were good right now.

Daniel wasn't worried about when things were good. He was worried about when they went bad - and they would. As Linda had said during the 'interview' with Jack, it was the 'little girl with the curl in the middle of her forehead' syndrome. When things were good, they were very, very good; and when they were bad, they were horrid.

Daniel was waiting for the 'horrid' to show up in Shanahan. And he was tired of waiting.

Okay, so maybe he was tired of three things, then.

----

Daniel was snoring on the couch when Sam finally got up from her nap.

She'd intended to lie down for a brief snooze and surprised herself when she woke up nearly three hours after she stretched out on her bed.

It didn't surprise her much that Daniel was sleeping. His body was still healing and although he'd been considered healthy enough to be discharged from the infirmary for twenty-four hours, Dr. Brightman wasn't so sure of his recovery that she felt he could go home unsupervised quite yet.

Sam hadn't asked how the Colonel had managed to 'spring' Daniel from the infirmary for the best part of the weekend, but Daniel was certainly happy enough to be out of the mountain, even if he didn't get to sleep in his own bed. Sam couldn't blame him, in spite of the healing she'd done on him, Daniel had been immured in the infirmary for over a week.

From inside the house, the late afternoon sun in her backyard looked inviting enough for her to put off the preparations she'd been going to make for dinner tonight. Not that she was cooking. The Colonel had made sure of that before he accepted the invitation.

Quietly, she tiptoed her way across the room to the back door as Daniel slumbered on, oblivious. He turned over as it creaked, but resettled himself. The snores resumed a moment later.

Golden sun dripped over her like warm honey. Sam shut her eyes as she paused out on the sundeck and let the subtle stresses of the week melt away, just for a little while. They'd be back all too soon, but in the meantime...

In the meantime, she could relax.

She settled herself into a lounge chair and leaned back, listening to the distant shouts and splashes of children playing in a pool. Several houses over, the buzz of gardening machinery indicated that someone was trying to wrestle their yard into cropped submission - and probably failing. If she concentrated, she could hear the cars driving by the street out the front. And somewhere out in suburbia, the ice-cream van was making its way through town. It's tinny music echoed across the rooftops, giving ample warning to the children so they could pester their parents for money.

It was an ordinary Saturday afternoon.

She'd probably need to relax now. Chances were, she wasn't going to have any other time to do so.

In a little while the Colonel and Teal'c would return from their mystery mission across town. There had been no explanations when they dropped Daniel off just before lunchtime, no hints or tips, just a short, "_We're off to see the wizard, Carter. We'll be back in a couple of hours._"

In a little while, Pete would be arriving for dinner, having finished his shift for the day.

In a little while, Sam would have to try to meld the two sections of her life into a whole, or learn to live with the separation. As a result, she was just a little apprehensive.

Shutting her eyes against the sun, Sam tried to make her body relax. Her shoulders were stiff, and she was getting twinges in her back as her body adjusted to carrying the weight of the baby.

So many changes in such a short time. So many things to level off in her mind. So many decisions to make.

And at some point, she would have to reconcile the guys of SG-1 to Pete - as well as reconciling Pete to the guys of SG-1. They'd have to live with each other, because this wasn't a contest with Sam as the prize. This was her life and her child, and she wasn't going to be made to choose between the men who'd been her team-mates as well as her friends and the man who'd fathered her child.

She'd decided that much.

She'd also pretty much decided that she wasn't going to take Pete back.

Oh, he'd been much nicer since she'd called him about the ultrasound. No temper tantrums, no accusations, very solicitous and considerate and kind. A lot like the man she'd first fallen in love with.

He'd been reasonable. A call every couple of days, the invitation every couple of days to do dinner or talk about the baby's future. Small things that she appreciated - the kind of attention he'd lavished on her in the first months of their relationship.

This time, though, Sam didn't have the blinders on. She wasn't madly plunging towards relational happiness at the cost of everything else - her individuality, her independence, her sense of self. The issues between them, while fixable, were made all the more difficult in the fact that their circumstances meant there would be no compromise.

As always, Sam would be the one making all the concessions and Pete would be the one gaining all the benefits.

Not quite a relationship of equals for which she'd hoped.

And then there was the memory of Jonas Hanson, to whom she'd engaged herself nearly ten years before. The parallels were inescapable. It terrified her that although her circumstances had changed, her underlying co-dependencies in such relationships had not.

It had disturbed her to the point where she'd found herself looking for such co-dependencies in her relationships with the guys of SG-1. After all, she'd initially reasoned, if she'd done it twice, was there the possibility that the patterns that defined her romantic relationships were so deeply ingrained that they also defined her friendships?

Illumination had been provided by the Colonel and Daniel, in the middle of one of their petty arguments; the ones where one would say 'blue' and the other would say 'orange' just for the sake of having something to disagree about.

"_You do this just to annoy me, don't you, Daniel?_" Colonel O'Neill's exasperation was tart as lemon peel.

"_Yes, Jack,_" Daniel said, sarcasm dripping from his tone of voice as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. "_I hold a differing opinion purely for the purposes of pissing you off._"

"_And you do it so well,_" the Colonel said, his tone equally acerbic.

"_It's an art form._"

Watching them from the next bed over, Sam had entertained the thought that if it wasn't for the existance of SG-1, then the two men would likely never have been anything more than distant acquaintances. Respected, yes; but certainly not friends.

And that provided the answer to her question.

The psychological co-dependency of her relationships, first to Jonas Hanson, then to Pete Shanahan, had been defined by her own subconscious, falling into patterns so old she hardly even realised they were there until they came back and bit her hard.

Her relationships to the Colonel, Daniel, and Teal'c had been required by the United States Air Force working under the auspices of the SGC. Her own relational patterns had not played a part in their initial definition, and the difference there had given her enough freedom to develop friendships that were more evenly set out in relational nature, even if they were rigidly structured in organisational terms.

That had been a profound relief.

Sam slipped her hands under the edges of her shirt and rested them on her stomach. There was something fascinating about the idea that there was a tiny human growing within her. It seemed at once both grossly horrible and innately sensuous, a mingling of the terrible and the awesome in a single state.

The door behind her opened and shut, and Daniel came to stand beside her. "Hey."

She glanced up at him, squinting into the sun. "Hey. Did I wake you up?"

"Not as far as I know." He sat down on the next deck chair and indicated her hands, squinting through his glasses in the bright sun. "How's junior doing?"

"Fine as far as I know. The tests from the other day didn't show up anything abnormal in its genetic development."

"And he's forming up okay?" He'd begun adjusting the angle of the back of the chair, but kept glancing at her as he settled it to his satisfaction and lay down on it.

"Yes." Sam hesitated before blurting out the next piece of information. "The amniotic sac contains trace amounts of naquadah."

"But it's not harmful?"

Sam shrugged, helplessly. "This isn't something we've ever seen before."

"It may never have happened before," Daniel said. "Ex-hosts are rare enough. One who would live long enough to have a child..."

"We don't yet know if the child will carry the protein marker or not."

"But it's likely."

"Yes." Sam's eyes flickered out to the neighbour's yard where the elderly couple had just come out for their afternoon walk. "The foetus is Rh-compatible so I don't need to have injections, but there's no way of telling just how this is going to affect it."

He eyed her. "So what are you going to do about it?"

She'd already considered that question. "Learn everything I can about what I have in me," she said, staring down at her hands. Long fingers, oval nails, and beneath the skin, in the veins, a gift - or curse - from a creature who had possessed her for a few days almost seven years ago.

What she had in her was both a blessing and a curse. She'd ignored it for too long, touching the edges of the abilities it granted, but afraid of what it might bring her to become.

Her child wouldn't have the leisure of ignoring it. Boy or girl, it would carry some hint of what Jolinar had made Sam. The legacy of Jolinar was now Sam's legacy, and would be passed on to this child. For the sake of her child, Sam would have to face what Jolinar had given to her and taken away from her as she never had before.

When she looked up, Daniel was watching her through narrowed eyes. "Is this to do with your healing me last week?"

"Sort of," she said, lightly. More than anything else, it had been Pete's reaction to her work with the healing device - and by extension, with the ribbon device - that had convinced her she needed to deal with this. He hadn't said it, but she'd seen it when she came out of the operating room: revulsion and fear. Bitterly, she supposed that even if they hadn't broken up after her use of the ribbon device on him, Jolinar's possession of her would have been one more point of contention between them.

"Have you told Shanahan?"

Sam frowned a little. "He has a first name, you know."

"He does?" Daniel snarked. "I guess that means you haven't told him."

And Sam was forced to concede she hadn't.

Pete's first experience of the ribbon device had been the capture of Osiris; the stakeout into which he had blundered. The Goa'uld had thrown him across the road like so much flotsam. His second experience had been no better. Once again, he had blundered into a situation which was out of his field, and again, a woman had flung him away from her with no more consideration than was given to trash.

That the woman in question was his girlfriend at the time, only added insult to injury.

"He's going to have to deal with it sooner or later," Daniel said. "What with him being the father of your child and all."

"Don't push it, Daniel." Her voice was sharp. Sam was tired of Daniel's not-so-subtle prods about her decision to tell Pete about the child. Daniel could be a nightmare when she made a decision he didn't like. There was no rest, no peace, no leaving alone; it was nag, nag, nag. Thank God, she'd never been attracted to Daniel. He was a great friend, and nobody could ask for more loyalty, but in a close-quarters personal relationship, day in and day out, she'd have murdered him a long time ago.

Daniel didn't push it. He'd learned to back off when she was in a shitty mood.

And maybe Pete had, too.

Well, she could hope. It would make things easier on her and on the child. Anything that made her life easier was good right now.

"Did you hear back from the Targonians?" Daniel asked, changing the topic entirely. "I never did hear back about that..."

"General Hammond sent through SG-13, led by Major Meridian," Sam told him. "The Targonians agreed to send a delegation through the gate in about a week. We'll leave one of our people there in exchange."

She was looking forward to the visit. The reports from both missions had been intriguing and the Targonians were a very distinct contradiction: the fiercely patriarchal Samurai side of their society against the highly feminine-oriented technological side.

Daniel nodded. "Any chance I could get some time in to ask her about their culture and how it works in practise? I didn't get all that good a discussion in with the people we met when we were on the planet..."

"She'll be here for several days, Daniel." Sam grinned as his eyes lit up. Daniel was highly entertaining when he was enthused about something - just as long as he didn't drag her into it and wasn't getting her or their team into trouble in the process. "You'll have more than enough time to grill her about her culture."

"I don't 'grill' people," he protested, taking mock-offense at her words.

Her reply was halted by the sound of the doorbell, and Sam climbed to her feet to get it. Daniel trailed her inside, waiting at the living room entrance as she answered it.

The Colonel and Teal'c stood on the front porch, holding bags of groceries for tonight's dinner. "May we come in?"

"There's enough here to feed an army," Daniel observed as the bags were dumped on the table. "Are you sure you didn't invite half the SGC for dinner, Jack?"

As Sam began to stow the groceries, she heard the rustle of a paper bag behind her. A moment later, the Colonel said, "I figured she could have a glass or two and it would be okay..."

When she turned around, Daniel was holding a bottle of red wine, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead, as the Colonel stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and shrugged.

"A single glass should not harm Samantha Carter or her child, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said from where he was unpacking what appeared to be half a greengrocer's worth of fruit and vegetables. "You have no cause to worry."

"Sara had wine every now and then while she was pregnant with Charlie," the Colonel offered.

Sam took the wine from Daniel's hand, hoping the pangs she felt at the mention of the Colonel's ex-wife and son weren't showing on her face as she examined the bottle. "You don't have to police me, you know, Daniel."

Daniel held up his hands, "Excuse me for being cautious!" He continued to sort through the bags, pulling out their contents until, "Ooh, blackberries!"

Sam had been tucking the wine away by the refrigerator. Daniel's exclamation turned her around and she held out her hand for the carton.

"Daniel..." The Colonel warned as Daniel pouted and held the container back from Sam. She advanced on him, and he began backing away, carefully keeping the table between them.

"We can share," he began. "Hey!"

Teal'c had plucked the container from his hand. "Those are for Samantha."

"Spoilsport," Daniel grumbled as she took the blackberries, grinning at her team-mate's annoyance.

Within a few seconds, her fingertips were stained purple with the juice from the somewhat squashed fruit. Sam didn't much care. The berries were exactly what she'd been craving all day - something tart and sweet in her mouth. She smacked at Daniel's hand as he tried to sneak in and nab himself a berry. "Ow!"

"Daniel, stop stealing Carter's food." The Colonel's voice had a note of long-suffering in it. He sounded like nothing so much as an adult reprimanding a kid, and Sam grinned around another berry.

"Colonel's pet," Daniel pouted at Sam. The twinkle in his eye belied his words, and, feeling decidedly childish, Sam stuck her tongue out at him, then offered him the container. "Thanks." He only took a couple before pushing the container back at her.

As the Colonel began to put things away, opening and shutting cupboards to find out where everything was, he asked, "So what have you two been doing all afternoon?"

"Sleeping mostly," Daniel said, in between berries. "I did a bit of translation on those scrolls from Zabulan. The language seems to be a hybrid of older Hebrew and ancient Assyrian, but the actual text seems to be from the Torah. I'll probably have to reference it with a couple of biblical scholars, but we might have found the planet where at least one of the lost tribes of Israel ended up...."

"Fascinating," the Colonel said, without one shred of sincerity. "Carter?"

"Sleeping and reading, mostly," Sam admitted. "Not much." She eyed the Colonel, "What about you?"

The Colonel and Teal'c and Daniel exchanged a look. Something was going on.

It was the Colonel who finally answered. "Well," he began, "As you've probably worked out in the last couple of weeks, Carter, children are expensive. And we weren't sure if you were going to buy everything brand new, but...we kind of figured that we should ask around and see who has what - just in case you wanted it." From his shirt pocket, he pulled some folded sheets of paper and unfolded them, laying them down on the table before her.

Sam began looking down the list, then looked up at him in astonishment. There were two columns: names and item. The items were baby equipment; everything from cribs to changing tables, from carriers to car seats. The names... The names were SGC personnel.

He nodded at the paper, as if to say, 'Keep going.' She read on. And as the list went on, she realised that it wasn't just items, but also advice, suggestions, offers of help and assistance. Some were just a name and a scribbled line, 'help offered.' Others were more specific, 'a home-cooked dinner sometime in the first month when everything is going to hell in a handbasket and she wonders if she'll ever get a decent night's sleep again.'

"Belinda Dixon?" Sam asked, pointing to the name written beside the home-cooked dinner. "As in...?"

"Colonel Dixon's wife," the Colonel replied, smiling.

"Sir, I don't even know this woman..."

"Well, either Dixon's been gossiping, or she really sympathises. Mind you, they had an attic full of stuff. Teal'c?"

From within his coat pocket, Teal'c produced a small digital camera. "The quality of the photography is not excellent, Samantha, but the images will give you an idea of the appearance of each item. You may choose those which suit your needs and the needs of your child."

In growing disbelief, Sam pushed the berries away and took up the camera. A few seconds of experimentation helped her work out how to shift through the contents of the memory card. A couple of glances cross-referenced the list with the photos, and she looked back up at the Colonel and beyond him to Teal'c, shocked at the amount of organisation and thought this displayed. "And you were doing this all day?"

"Yeah." The Colonel seemed a little embarrassed by her shock, he was staring at the photos. As she looked at him, he lifted his eyes to meet hers for a brief moment before his gaze slid away. Beyond him, Teal'c was listening to Daniel who was talking too softly for her to hear.

It seemed unbelievable - a lot of time and effort had gone into it. And for what?

_Maybe the question should be 'for whom?'_

Sam looked back at the images the camera was showing, blinking rapidly to try to diffuse the tears that had stung her eyes. It was stupid that she was getting emotional over this, but they'd put in so much effort into co-ordinating it. From getting the word out, to taking the time to drive all over the Springs and find out what people had and take photos of each item, so she could choose if she wanted any of it...

Her eyes stung, and the images on the camera blurred a little, then a lot.

Sam was crying.

She was crying and looking like an idiot - yet again.

And, yes, it was the hormones and the stress, but it was also just the fact the they'd decided to show that they cared - about something so small and crazy and...and...

"Carter?" His query undid her.

Accustomed to being strong before these guys, Sam couldn't allow herself to break down before them. Somehow, crying in front of them seemed less acceptable than breaking down before Agent Barrett, and she didn't want to deal with them and their concern right now.

She stood, letting the camera sit on the table, and choked out something about needing some time alone. She walked past them, fighting the urge to run from their startled and worried gazes.

Safely in her bedroom with the door shut, Sam climbed on the quilt and let herself burst into tears.

In truth, she'd expected to be left by the wayside when she discovered she was pregnant. A tiny voice in her had hoped that her friends would rally around her, but an overwhelming cynicism and pure practicality had told her that the chances of that were very slim.

And yet they were here, in support of her; including her in their lives, making space for her and the child she carried. Not one of them had a stake in her child, but they intended to be there for her as much as possible.

Did they have any idea how much that meant?

She hadn't expected anything from them at all; especially from the Colonel.

Of all her team-mates, she'd thought that Colonel O'Neill would have the least reason to want anything to do with her now that she was pregnant with her ex-boyfriend's child. Yet, he had spent his Saturday afternoon driving around town instead of parked in front of the television, watching the hockey pre-season as he usually did at this time of year.

That was more valuable to her than he knew.

She stared down at her stomach, at the slight thickening of her waist. Sam couldn't imagine a guy wanting her when she was carrying another man's child. He'd probably given up months ago - back when she first started dating Pete. And he had Melissa now.

So maybe his lack of response to her pregnancy was to be expected, in the end.

And 'just friends' wasn't so bad. She'd had seven years of being 'just friends' and they'd been good years.

It was just...

She'd thought she could have her cake and eat it too.

Oh, she'd been happy with Pete in some ways. The sex was good, and it was such a nice change to be adored and petted; but in the end, she'd always measured herself up to the Colonel's expectations.

It was quite ironically funny. Independent woman and successful soldier, but all her achievement was marked by the ruler of two men. Her father, and Jack O'Neill.

Which made her situation even more pitiable now.

Restless fingers picked at the quilt cover, a log cabin block quilt that Mark's wife had made her two Christmases ago. _You'll just have to live with it,_ she thought, as she smeared her tears thinly over her cheeks and grabbed at the bedside Kleenex box to dab her face dry. _And as long as they're around, things aren't too bad..._

And if, one day, they weren't... Well, she'd deal with that then. She'd have to.

There was a knock at the closed door, then a pause. Then, "Carter?"

Sam gave her face a quick swipe and went to answer the door.

The Colonel eyed her from the hallway outside. He was holding a steaming mug in one hand and looked a little apprehensive. "You okay?"

"Yes," she said, still operating on automatic. Her fingers swiped briefly over her face, checking that she hadn't missed any stray tears. Not that it would make much difference. She probably looked ugly, all blotchy skin and red eyes, but there wasn't much to be done about that, and it was doubtful that the Colonel would mind anyway. He'd seen her under all kinds of conditions, this was hardly the worst.

His eyes studied her for a minute before he nodded and looked away. "Daniel said I should bring you some decaffeinated tea," he said, offering the mug. "He makes a pretty good mom for a guy who spends most of his time lost in translations."

Sam couldn't help her smile as she accepted the mug. "Thank you, sir."

He nodded briefly. "You ready to come back out, or did you want a bit more time to yourself?"

"I'm fine." The response slipped through her lips before she could censor it. At one level, she was fine, yes; at another, she wasn't. But that wasn't what he was asking, in the end.

And what she wanted to know was something he'd never tell her - not if she didn't ask.

"Sir..."

He'd been turning away, about to head back to the living room. Her address stopped him. "Carter?"

She indicated the living room, meaning the list that he and Daniel and Teal'c had compiled. "Why'd you do it, sir?"

He didn't pretend not to know what she was talking about, but he didn't seem to know the answer either. "Help you out. Give you something to start with." His eyes were downcast; he wasn't meeting her gaze. Sam had the urge to step up to him, nose to mouth, and tip his chin up.

Of course, she didn't. She never did.

What she did instead was retreat into the room and sit down on the bed, as if waiting for him to answer her further. Her hands closed tightly around the hot sides of the mug and she gripped it, ignoring the way the skin of her palms protested at the heat. "Thank you," she said. "I... You didn't have to."

"No," he agreed. "We didn't." The wide mouth twisted a little. "Carter... I should probably let Daniel say this since he's better at this than me, but...you won't be doing this whole parenting entirely alone. With...with or without Shanahan, we're not going to let you do this by yourself." His eyes met hers for a moment, dark humour lurking in their depths. "Between the three of us, we might have, oh, one parent's worth of parenting. Maybe. On a good day."

Sam couldn't help the smile that tipped up the corners of her mouth. "You're not that bad, sir."

"I dunno," he said, not without a little bleakness. "Teal'c's the only one with a live son out of the three of us. If you count Shifu as Daniel's. And the whole ascended-y thing..." He trailed off. "Yeah. So, one live son."

"That's not an indication of parenting ability," Sam said, gently. Even after all these years, he still blamed himself for Charlie's death. Oh, it wasn't the all-consuming self-hatred Daniel had described from the very first trip through to Abydos, time and life had worn it down to a nub; but the nub still burned in his soul and always would.

"Maybe," he hedged, unwilling to give up his guilt. "The point is that we're in it as much as you are."

"All for one and one for all?" Sam smiled as he made a face.

"Daniel said that the other day."

The other day? "He did?"

"When we called you from Luigi's."

"Oh." She remembered then. But that had been a couple of weeks ago, now. After the Colonel left, she'd fretted and wondered what he'd meant by coming over to apologise. He didn't owe her an apology - not for his bluntness in the briefing room, not for his decision to start going out with someone. She'd said he owed her nothing, and it was true. And she'd over-reacted to his queries about Pete's behaviour and the mention of Melissa.

She'd regretted sending him away like that afterwards. If he'd wanted to talk about Melissa, she should have let him, but there'd been nothing to do; she wasn't going to call him back and beg for forgiveness - that wasn't her.

So the call, later on in the evening from Teal'c, had been unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.

The guys had come around, bringing her dinner and sitting on her couch. The Colonel and Daniel argued over what to watch until Teal'c confiscated the remote control and asked Sam what she wanted to watch. Before the guys arrived, Sam had intended to watch reruns of a sci-fi series she'd enjoyed but which had been cancelled after an extremely short season; but by the time Teal'c asked, she hadn't much cared. Instead, she'd been surreptitiously watching Colonel O'Neill and wondering about his relationship with Melissa Sandringham.

He didn't owe her anything, no. But that didn't mean she wasn't curious.

"May I?" He indicated the edge of the bed beside her, expression cautious.

Sam nodded, surprised that he was willing to venture this far into her 'personal space'. Then again, she supposed, she was 'safe' now. And who was there to know or care? Daniel? Teal'c?

The edge of the bed depressed under his weight, and he bounced lightly on its edge, then ducked his head when she arched a brow at him in amused query. "Bouncy."

"It's new." She'd sold her old bed and bought the new one after she broke up with Pete. Some things she didn't need reminding of. Sam didn't explain the why of it; that was something he definitely wouldn't need or want to know.

"That would explain it," he said, solemnly, settling down with his elbows on his knees, hands lightly clasped between his legs. "Are you looking forward to the Targonian delegation's arrival? What is it? A week?"

"A little over a week. I've already set the research department to determining which technologies the Targonians might be interested in looking at while they're here..." Aware that he didn't always enjoy listening to her talk about her technological interests, she glanced at him, trying to determine his attention.

The Colonel caught her glance and shot her a brief half-smile. "I'm listening," he assured her, warmth in his expression.

Sam crooked a smile, "But are you paying attention?"

"Is there a quiz at the end of it?"

"Maybe."

He snorted, smiling. "What do I get if I pass?"

She leaned towards him, conspiratorially, and lowered her voice. "I hadn't actually thought about it."

"Your firstborn child?"

"Should I call you Rumplestiltskin?"

Colonel O'Neill tilted his head at her. "That's _Colonel_ Rumplestiltskin to you, Carter!"

Sam laughed.

It felt so nice to sit here and just talk with him, lightly teasing, as though they were ordinary people and not in a command structure that forbade them to do anything more than care. But even as her laughter fell silent and she felt his eyes upon her as her own dropped to her mug, she knew she couldn't let it last.

There were things between them that wouldn't go away; like Pete's child and the other woman in his life, and they could be friends but no more. She had to acknowledge that.

So she did.

"So," Sam said lightly, looking up from the dark swirl of her tea. "How's Melissa?"

He seemed surprised at the question, and Sam wondered if he'd resigned himself to never being able to mention the woman he was dating in front of Sam. Her self-control had never been better, though. No waver marred her voice, although she felt as though she was dying inside, something crumpling up, fragile as a flower and just as easily crushed - especially at his answer.

"Mel's fine."

_Mel._ The nickname clenched around her heart, compressing her chest so she couldn't breathe. Suddenly, Sam had grown gills, and the air in her lungs burned like lava down her trachea.

She shouldn't take it further. Sam knew that. And yet...something in her wanted to know. Something in her _needed_ to know.

"Daniel said you'd been seeing her for a while," she said, and watched his gaze slide down to his hands. Ashamed of this woman? No. But he didn't want to talk to her about it, and Sam wondered why.

Sam wondered what he'd do if she leaned over and brushed her mouth over the tan flesh of his collarbone. If she slipped the buttons out of his shirt and let her lips trail down over his chest, would he let her?

No. _No._ She was hormonal. That was all. She was just hormonal.

"About...four months," the Colonel was saying, and Sam dragged her attention back to him.

A couple of months after she'd started seeing Pete, then. That eased the pain in her chest, just a little. But the next question - the question to which she really wanted to know the answer - tightened her throat enough that she had to swallow hard before asking, "Is it serious?"

He glanced at her, the profile turning towards her, catching her unawares. "It's not humworthy, yet," he said lightly.

She winced. She couldn't help it.

"Carter? You okay?"

"Fine." Her response was sharper than she intended, and she cursed herself for overreacting. He hadn't meant it personally, it was just...

_It's not humworthy, yet._

That was something, at least. Sam wouldn't be dancing at his wedding anytime soon. Of course, Sam wouldn't be dancing anytime soon, period.

Unaware that he was still watching her, his next question took her by surprise. "Why'd you ask about Mel?"

Sam looked up at him, meeting the searching gaze, then looked back down at her mug. Dissembling was a possibility; the option of telling him that she'd been polite and making small talk. But the Colonel was watching her like a hawk, and she owed him something. God knew, she'd taken enough comfort and solace from him and never given him anything back.

Let him know the reason why. He deserved to know that much.

"Because she's important to you." The answer was surpringly simple, getting the words out wasn't.

He looked piercingly at her for a long time, and she willed the blood not to rise to her cheeks. She couldn't stop caring about him, it wasn't something she could just turn off. And her relationship with Pete hadn't changed anything in that way, either.

It didn't matter anymore, anyway.

He was still with Melissa, and she was still carrying Pete's child. Pete might not be her lover anymore, but he was still a major player in her life. And the rules and regulations of the United States Air Force still prohibited emotional attachments between officers in the chain of command.

No, nothing had changed.

If the Colonel found what he'd been looking for, he'd either found it, or given up, because he looked back down at his hands, the fingers of which were fiddling lightly against each other.

"She's an escort." The words were so low, she almost missed them. Sam stared at him, unsure if she was hearing what she thought she was hearing, and he looked up and turned towards her, sparing neither her, nor himself. "I met Melissa through an escort agency."

Beneath his tan, a dark flush rose, and Sam's own cheeks matched it, blood for blood.

The woman she'd met in his house, elegantly dressed, intelligent, articulate... She was a _prostitute_?

"Why?" The question escaped her before she could bring it back and she looked away. "I'm sorry, sir... I..." It wasn't her right to know. She didn't deserve that.

A touch on her wrist stopped her words, and she looked from the hand resting hot and warm on her arm to the face of the man sitting beside her. "You know how lonely it gets, Carter. Sometimes you want...someone just to be there. To pretend that everything's normal; to 'play house' so to speak." He didn't take his gaze from her face, although she watched them flicker from eye to eye, down to her mouth, back up to her eyes. "Mel is my version of 'normal.'" _Just as Shanahan was yours._

Sam looked away. A part of her wanted to scream and rage and push him away, to tell him that what had been between them was more than an itch to be scratched or a 'version of normal' to be enjoyed... A part of her stood back and looked at it all, coldly and with about as much emotion as the military wanted its people to behave.

The Colonel's relationship with Melissa wasn't just about sex. That was blindingly obvious. It was a much broader need that the Colonel had - a need that Melissa could meet and Sam couldn't; companionship, desire, affection, normality.

Hadn't she done the same thing with Pete?

Slowly, she forced herself to turn to meet his gaze. "I understand," she said, very quietly. It was all she had to offer him, really; neither acceptance, nor liking, and certainly not the affection that ran between them, close as a whisper, binding as a vow.

"I wish you didn't have to," he said, and his voice was just as low.

Sam still wanted to be sick. But she _did_ understand and, like the accusations of an extramarital affair cast upon him during the situation up in Denver, it didn't change anything at all.

_Fish gotta swim..._

The doorbell rang, and her head turned away from him, towards the door.

"I've got it!" Daniel was heard to yell, and Sam grimaced.

Behind her, the Colonel huffed in soft exasperation. "Remind me how old he is again?"

"Thirty-nine."

"Uh-uh." She glanced back at him. She caught the vestiges of some lingering apprehension in his expression before his mouth quirked, "We should find him a wife."

Sam laughed and stood to leave.

A touch on her arm turned her back to the Colonel. "Carter..." He clearly want to say something, and yet seemed lost for words.

When he didn't respond, she gave him a brief half-smile. "It's okay, sir." It wasn't perfect, but it was okay. She'd made her bed, and she would lie on it.

There were voices coming along the hallway, growing closer in argument. Daniel and Pete, not clearly audible, but noisy enough. Sam grimaced at the Colonel and pulled the door open.

"You can't..."

She emerged from her bedroom into the hallway and stopped dead. At her back, the Colonel radiated warmth, like a hot stone, constrasting with her body which felt like cold lead at the expression on Pete's face.

Pete's eyes flickered from her to Colonel O'Neill, and there was no mistaking his anger as he looked over them.

Sam remembered that anger from the first morning after they'd slept together. The thwarted intent, made childishly ugly on the otherwise handsome features. Nausea threatened even before he opened his mouth, addressing her conversationally. "So how long were you fucking him?"

Something in her recognised that he was angry and his anger was ruling his speech. He wasn't thinking about what he was saying, he was just casting words out without regard for who he hurt. And perhaps he didn't mean what he was saying, but that didn't stop her from hearing it and processing it as if he did.

"Shanahan..." The Colonel growled, his voice a warning.

"You can quit with the threats, O'Neill," Pete snapped, his gaze transferring to the man standing behind Sam. The man whose hand was at her elbow, supporting her as she groped for the wall, her stomach churning at the baldness of his words. "I won't be intimidated..."

"Who's talking intimidation?" The Colonel demanded, frowning.

Pete's face creased with irritation. "Your guy, the one who told me that I should be more careful of who I spoke to! You can't control my life the way you can control Sam's. I'm not part of your precious Air Force!"

"What the hell are you talking about...?"

Pete's mouth curled in a sneer, "Oh, don't give me that shit, Colonel. It's fairly obvious what's been going on around here; the whole brush-off Sam gave me, the way you always seem to be over here when I come around, the way you sent someone to threaten me..."

"Pete." Sam was trembling, partly in revulsion at his words, partly in shock at his vitriol. She'd known he was bitter about the SGC and her job; she'd never realised just how far it went. "That's not the way we work."

"We?" He demanded, eyes narrowing. "The SGC? Or you and him?"

Her stomach roiled, and one hand went to her waist, pressing it in an attempt to keep her lunch down. She'd been working with the Colonel for seven years, and there had to be some irony in the fact that the only man with whom she'd had a consummated romantic relationship in that time was one of the very few who'd ever outright accused her of sleeping with Colonel O'Neill.

His eyes followed the movement of her hand to her stomach, and, misinterpreting her movement, he lashed out. "Is it even mine? Is that why you don't want me to have anything to do with the kid?"

If he had other accusations, they went unsaid. Teal'c sprang like a cat, unfurling limbs and muscles with the killing grace of a predator who knew his strength and skill.

"Teal'c, no!" Her cry was futile, she knew. Above all other things, Teal'c prized honour and the honour of the warriors he fought alongside. That he had remained so still for so long was a wonder in and of itself.

Pete had a hand at his throat and a wall at his back before he could do more than squeak. Even as his gun emerged from its holster, Teal'c smashed it from his hand, sending it clattering down the wooden-floored hallway to rest at Daniel's feet.

The force of Teal'c's wrath resonated through the hall as he held the smaller man against the wall. And Pete might be a trained police officer, but he wasn't prepared for the rage of a two hundred fifty pound Jaffa.

"Teal'c..." Sam's voice rose in unison with the Colonel's.

Their appeal was unnecessary, and they knew it. Even in the throes of fury, Teal'c possessed exquisite self-control.

"Samantha Carter does not wish you dead," Teal'c stated coldly, looking at Pete with the merciless, unforgiving stare that meant he was in a deadly rage and holding onto it with a trinium will. "However, I do." There was an icy passion to his words, scalding in tone, deadly in intent. "This time I will submit to her decision. Next time, I may not be so lenient." He let go of Pete's throat, and stepped back. "Take your false accusations from this house, and do not come back."

Pete's hand had automatically flown to his neck, rubbing where Teal'c had gripped him. He glared at Teal'c, humiliated by the Jaffa's actions; before turning his resentful gaze to Sam.

At this moment, Sam had nothing for him. His hateful accusations hung in the air between them, clouding everything that had gone before and shadowing everything that would come. If she was to deal with him at all, it would have to be later, when her emotions had settled down and her mind was clear.

"I know my rights, Sam," he said at last, and although his voice was softer than before, it still carried an angry edge. "You can't keep my child from me. And what kind of life are you going to give it, anyway? What kind of heritage will our child have with that alien thing you've got in you? How do you know it won't be a freak?"

He'd always objected to her secrets, from that very first morning. She'd never thought it would come to this; that the shadow of what had been done to her by Jolinar would cloud their relationship so badly.

She'd been an idiot.

"You don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about," the Colonel said, his voice lethally soft as he cut into the silence.

"And don't think you can come between me and Sam," Pete sneered. "You had your chance, O'Neill, and your son is dead, you can't have mine, too!"

"That's enough!" The burning cold of his voice stabbed through the accusations, "If you have any sense at all, you'll turn around and walk out of here before you say anything more. And tomorrow, you'll call Carter and apologise for what you've said tonight."

Sam couldn't see the Colonel's face behind her, but she could see Pete's and the way he struggled with his temper - so quick to flare, burning in anger, cutting deeply.

There was a moment where it looked like he'd set his jaw and demand to stay. Then, behind him, Daniel took one step to the side, clearing a way for Pete to leave.

Pete glanced back at Sam once, then set his jaw and strode away. The door slammed shut behind him.

Silence.


	13. Taking Sides 3

** Secrets and Shadows: Taking Sides**

**Part Three  
**

The rest of the night was understandably subdued.

Jack cooked dinner, Teal'c washed the dishes, Daniel didn't say 'I told you so.' He was quite proud of that.

Sam was mostly quiet as they kept the conversation going on many topics, none of which pertained to the baby or Pete's outburst earlier that evening. And when, as the guys rose to leave, Jack turned to her and said, "Daniel can stay with me tonight, if you prefer," the answer was surprising.

"It's okay." One fine-boned shoulder angled up towards a fine-boned cheek. "He's no trouble."

Jack's eyebrows immediately went up, "We're talking about the same guy, right?"

Daniel looked daggers at Jack, but Sam just smiled. "It's fine, sir. Honestly."

After they were gone, Daniel put away the last few dishes as Sam padded around the room, setting things to rights before going to bed. The scene, he thought with a slight pang, was very much a domestic one. He'd clean up the kitchen, she'd pick up the last bits and pieces, and then he'd sling an arm around her shoulder and they'd go to bed.

Of course, the scenario was just a little disconcerting given that the woman was Sam, whom he'd never really thought of that way.

_You have a sick mind, Daniel._ Or maybe just a whimsical one.

Or maybe Sam's pregnancy was just getting to him. He'd found himself having more longing thoughts of 'wife-and-family' than he'd been wont to have in the last four years since Sha're's death. And the development of his relationship with Linda... Well, that had surprised them both.

It was understandable that, when presented with a set of 'normal' circumstances like a simple pregnancy, his psyche should think longingly of the things that most people tended to wish for. Someone to come home to at the end of the day, children to bring up, a family to belong to.

SG-1 and the friendships he'd developed there could only provide so much. Which might explain why Sam had plunged headlong into a relationship with Shanahan. Or why Jack was sleeping with Melissa.

In the moment that Shanahan cast his accusations, Daniel had felt the same urge as Teal'c - but, unlike Teal'c, he was injured and had no intention of popping his stitches like a garment tearing at the seams. Besides which, his response would have been verbal, not physical, and Shanahan seemed like a guy more likely to respond to physical intimidation than verbal. Witness his anger about the 'warnings' he'd been given.

"You okay?" He asked Sam as she passed the kitchen on her way to the back door of the house.

The answer was as expected, with a little surprise thrown in that he should ask at all. "Fine, Daniel. I'll just be outside for a moment."

Daniel let her have her space, and set about getting ready for bed. He'd be staying in the spare bedroom tonight - the first time he'd been out of the infirmary in nearly two weeks. Even if it wasn't his own bed, it was comfortable and warm, and soft - quite unlike any of the infirmary beds at the SGC. And he wouldn't have to listen to one more tale of woe, or wonder what happened to the team that came in, bedraggled, dirty and damp from their latest encounter. There would be no three-in-the-morning emergencies that required people to rush about, talking in low, agitated voices and wheel in machines that clicked and beeped and whirred as they were used.

It was nice to be in an actual house, with nothing more than the occassional car passing by outside.

Except that as he prepared to change into his sleeping tracksuit and tee, Daniel realised he hadn't heard Sam come in.

When he checked, she was back out on the deck, leaning back in the recliner in the dark with a candle lit beside her on the little wooden table beside her. Beyond her, the backyard was dark and redolent with deep green shadows that swallowed the light.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and sat down in the chair beside her.

If she wanted to be silent and say nothing, that was fine. But if she wanted to talk - and Daniel had this feeling she did - then he was here for her to talk to.

"When did it all become so difficult?" The question was plaintive and rhetorical. Their lives were difficult, and Sam knew that as well as Daniel did.

He could have asked so many questions about why Sha're had been taken from him, why Rothman had died, why Sarah had been possessed by a Goa'uld, why Skaara and the Abydonians had ascended... He'd learned not to. If there were answers - and sometimes there were - then they were usually as bad as the question, if not worse.

Sam turned to him then, "I thought that maybe..." Her words stuttered off into stillness, unusual for her; and the blue of her eyes was concealed by the night. "I hoped that it would all come together. That it would work out for the best. Stupid, I guess..."

"Maybe shortsighted," Daniel offered, smiling slightly to show that he didn't mean any offence. Then, because he knew that Sam thought best when she had someone off which to bounce ideas, he asked, "Have you thought about what you're going to do now?"

Her shrug was a little hopeless, and her expression was cynical. "Wait for him to come back saying he didn't mean any of it."

"You think he meant all of it?" He managed to keep his voice even and uninflected. If she chose to take Shanahan back, she was more stupid than Daniel thought.

Sam gave him a hard glance, before her expression softened a little. "He meant some of it at one level, although he probably wouldn't have said it quite that way." In the automatic reflex that she'd developed over the last few weeks, her hand slipped down to her stomach, resting over the child. "And he's right, too," she said, bitterly. "What kind of heritage am I giving my child?"

"Oh, I don't know," Daniel said offhandedly. "I think you'll give your child a lot of things. Intelligence, beauty, the strength to keep fighting one day at a time and the confidence to know what she deserves and what she doesn't have to take. The practicality to think through a problem and find a solution to it, and the ability to stand back and look outside the box. Humour, laughter, love..."

The silence stretched for a few seconds after his litany ceased. "That wasn't what I meant."

"No. But it was what _I_ meant."

"Daniel?"

"Yeah?"

Her voice was a little choked. "If I cry again, I'm going to kill you."

He laughed. "I think I might have a Kleenex in my jacket pocket..."

More silence. Then, "I wish..." Sam sighed heavily. "If wishes were horses..."

"Beggars would ride," Daniel finished for her. "I know."

"I don't understand why he said the Colonel had warned him away..." Her gaze was frank and puzzled in the gloom. "Do you?"

"No..." The word had no sooner escaped his lips when he realised he _did_ know what Shanahan had meant. And it had nothing to do with Jack and everything to do with Daniel.

_Damn._

He was saved having to either tell the truth or dissemble, however. Sam was continuing on, talking to herself, setting out her theories and ideas in the air between them, giving them voice and through that voicing, giving them solidarity and possibility. That was the way her mind worked. "I don't know how this is going to turn out, Daniel."

He couldn't help her on that score. "I don't know either," was his admission. "You could put out a restraining order on him..." Shanahan's behaviour certainly warranted it. Pun not intended.

"I don't want to do that." The response was immediate and automatic - that option was no option at all.

_Pity,_ Daniel thought to himself. Then he chided himself for being unkind. "I guess...you wait until he comes to terms with your relationship and the child's heritage." That was all Sam - or any of them - could do in the end. She wasn't going to be able to change Shanahan's mind, and if he didn't change his mind, then there was no way Sam was going to let him anywhere near her child.

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then you're stuck," he told her, bluntly. If Shanahan never came to terms with the protein marker and naquadah in Sam, and if he continued to make a nuisance of himself like this, then Sam was well and truly in the desert without shade, water, or transport.

She winced, ever so slightly. "Not what I was hoping to hear."

"Did you want me to sugar-coat it?" Daniel asked, knowing the answer.

"No." The truth was bitter, but it wouldn't be the first time Sam had been required to swallow such a pill.

They sat in silence for a while, without questions or comments to make. A neighbour's air-conditioner hummed merrily away in the summer evening, while a couple of cats fought out their territorial enmity. A dog barked, and there was laughter coming from a house somewhere down the road.

"Why didn't you tell me about Melissa? That she was a...a..."

"Call girl?" Daniel supplied lightly. It was better than 'prostitute,' 'whore,' or any other word he could think to use. "It wasn't my place to tell you."

"And you think the Colonel would ever have told me?"

"I think that it wasn't my place to tell you," Daniel repeated, irked by the implication that she deserved to know. For a scientist, sometimes Sam could be irrational - although no more so than any other person on the planet, he supposed. "How did you find out?"

"He told me."

"Ah." The conversation that took place in Sam's bedroom, and which Daniel had fervently resisted trying to overhear. Of course, Teal'c's impassive look every time Daniel made any kind of a move towards the hallway had also acted as a very effective deterrent.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Daniel frowned at her. "It means 'Ah,'" he retorted.

The brief glare she gave him faded swiftly and she stared down at her hands as they rested over her stomach. She'd taken to doing that a lot lately, especially when she was stressed, or when things weren't going too well. It was almost as though the presence of the baby, while causing all kinds of hormonal changes in her, was also steadying her, grounding her.

He made a mental note to ask Linda about it.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being a hormonal bitch."

"Ah. Well, maybe it's just as well that you're off SG-1," he told her, and saw the moment of shock-hurt before he added, "There's only room for one pissy bitch on SG-1, and I have it covered already."

She laughed then. Daniel allowed himself a smile. It was never so bad when you could make Sam laugh. Or smile. That was Jack's philosophy, although he would never have put it into quite those words. Jack had spent seven years eliciting smiles from Sam.

As her laughter faded, Daniel figured he could tell her this much.

"Jack usually sees Melissa on Fridays," he said, and saw the way she stiffened. No, not all the water was under the bridge there. That was plain to see. "But I know he hasn't been seeing her the last couple of weeks."

She was silent for a long time after that pronouncement. Until finally, she asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Daniel looked at her, caught her in profile. "What do you want it to mean?"

Her answer never came.


	14. Taking Sides 4

** Secrets and Shadows: Taking Sides**

**Part Four  
**

Jack knew it was a bad week, when he found himself thinking it had been a long one.

And it was only Tuesday.

Carter turned away from him, her back rigid at his snap.

Jack turned on his heel. He felt like the worst kind of scum, but his anger held back his apology until she'd gone around the corner. Then he cursed himself for being a bastard. He knew better than to take his anger out on his subordinates, that didn't stop his better judgement from occasionally being overridden.

It wasn't her fault that his truck had been stolen yesterday afternoon.

He was just in a bad mood this morning.

His aide wasn't much luckier than Carter in the greeting arena. "Good morning, sir."

"Is it, sergeant? I hadn't noticed."

The sergeant arched a brow, but the man had a considerably more placid temperament than a five-month pregnant woman. The state of mind of his superior was not his concern, his job was his concern and as Jack sat down in his chair, he merely placed the forms and reports for the morning in Jack's hands. "General Hammond would like to see you about your trip to Petersen yesterday. He's scheduled a meeting from 1000 hours until 1100 hours to discuss the personnel you reviewed."

"Okay. No problem with that." Jack flipped through the top report and scowled. "Dixon, too?"

"I don't know if Colonel Dixon is included, although it would make sense. I can check...?"

Jack shook his head. "Doesn't matter. If he's there, he's there. If not..." He handed the report back, "Send this back to Dr. Abadi and ask her to rewrite it in English. I don't care how excited she gets when she discovers something - reports are to be submitted in English. If she has to use another set of forms, that's her problem for not writing notes first."

"Yes, sir. Dr. Jackson asked you to call him when you got in."

Yeah, like that was going to happen in Jack's state of mind. If he'd snapped at Carter for no good reason, he'd probably take Daniel's head off at the slightest provocation. And Daniel didn't do _slight_ provocation. "Call him back and tell him I'm busy." A sense of shame nagged at him, "And call Major Carter and ask if she's good for Jell-O in the commissary at 1100 hours."

If Sergeant Halliwell was surprised that Jack had time for Carter but none for Daniel, he kept his expression bland. "Yes, sir. Is there anything you need?"

"Other than my morning coffee, no, thank you, Sergeant." See? Jack could be civil when he was in a bad mood.

He just wished he'd been civil to Carter this morning.

Oh well. No point in crying over what was done. And Jell-O in the commissary would be a kind of apology. And he'd take chocolate. She'd understand. At least, he hoped she would.

If she didn't, then he'd actually say the apology. Out loud. Possibly loud enough for the neighbouring tables to hear, although Jack really hoped it wouldn't come down to that. It suggested he'd been enough of an ass to warrant an apology, and that was never good. Hardass, yes. Asshole, no.

Anyway, Carter had enough stuff going on in her life without Jack adding to it.

Even if he was pissed off that some teenager had stolen his precious Ford 250 from the parking lot of Wal-Mart and taken it joyriding.

He probably would have been in a slightly better mood had the officer taking the report been even the slightest bit sympathetic. But the man had all the interest of a lump of clay. Granted, he probably saw a million of these forms a day, but even a little bit of sympathy wouldn't have gone amiss to a grumpy, tired, bad-tempered Colonel who only wanted to go home and relax in front of his TV with a beer.

Jack sat down to a morning of reports and his coffee.

He was nearly halfway through the pile when Sergeant Halliwell knocked on the door. "Sir?"

"Sergeant."

"Colonel Dixon will be at the debriefing, Major Carter said 1100 hours will be fine, and Dr. Jackson says, and I quote, 'What the fuck is wrong with him this morning?'" The sergeant was good. He managed Daniel's delivery deadpan.

Amusement overtook irritation. That didn't mean Jack was going to tempt fate and call Daniel. "I'll leave Daniel for a few more hours yet," he told the Sergeant, as he scrawled another remark on the comments sheet of a personnel report. "Remind me when it's time for the meeting."

"It's in ten minutes, sir."

Jack looked at his watch. "That was fast."

Halliwell's mouth curved in the faintest of smiles. "Yes, sir."

The debriefing was about their trip over to Petersen Airbase the day before. Admin had tagged a dozen possible recruits for the SGC. While the SGC took in new graduates every year, what they needed just as much were experienced officers, ones who had history in combat and tactics. Theory and training was all very well, but in a crisis, nothing worked like experience.

Even if that experience was dealing with situations that had never before come up in any training manual on the planet.

"I wouldn't take Valenti," Dixon was saying. "Too inflexible."

"He gets results," Hammond noted, playing devil's advocate.

"He's the type who would," Dixon replied. "Looks good on paper, but fifteen minutes with him and my hackles were up. Jack?"

By agreement, they hadn't discussed this beforehand. Each man would get to form his own opinion and then lay them out before Hammond for his judgement.

"Not Valenti," Jack agreed. "He wouldn't deal well in this command. Daley might. He was leader of one of the Black Ops that went into Afganistan after Bin Laden's lieutenants."

He remembered the watchful stare of the man as they interviewed him. Easy manner, but shadowed eyes; this guy kept his cards close to his chest, but played as though he had nothing to lose.

"He lost two men on that mission," Dixon remarked. Jack eyed him, trying to work out if the other Colonel had taken on the devil's advocate role.

"I looked at the reports from his team and his commanders," Jack remarked. "All things being equal, he should have lost more."

"And the reason he didn't lose more was because he took a lot of leeway with his standing orders," Dixon added, bland as milk.

Jack smirked at Dixon, then turned to Hammond. "One more point for Daley. He'll fit right in here."

One by one, they went through the personnel who'd been suggested and subsequently vetted by Jack and Dixon. It was a standing joke among base personnel that Hammond deliberately sent the most outrageous of his commanders to vet the incoming officers. The command only worked as well as the people in it, and both Jack and Dixon had been with the SGC long enough to know who they could use, as well as who would fit in.

Of course, sometimes they were wrong.

Two more officers were tagged for further investigation before their meeting concluded and the two Colonels went back up to their office levels.

"I wouldn't have picked Jess Packard," Dixon was saying as they shuffled back to let in a bunch of airmen head up to the commissary level.

"No?" Jack had suggested Packard, Dixon had disagreed.

"Too mouthy, and with issues..."

Jack thought of another Captain he'd met years ago who'd had 'issues' when she walked into the briefing room. He grinned as the airmen got off at the commissary. "Carter was mouthy with issues when I first met her." It was worth the revelation just to see Dixon do a double take. Major David Dixon had arrived at the SGC two months after the program started, and within a year, he had his eagles. But, unlike officers like Ferretti, he'd missed the initial adjustment period, and arrived to find SG-1 a functional unit.

"You're kidding, right? Major Carter?"

"Not kidding," Jack smirked. Over the years, Carter's edges had smoothed out quite nicely.

Jack suspected that all his team had smoothed the edges off each other over the years. They pulled together in harness like a well-practised team - which they were.

Even if they did sometimes snap at each other.

The door opened at the office levels and they stepped out into the corridor, nodding at the aides that saluted them as they passed. "Back to the reports," Dixon grumbled, but good-naturedly.

"Jell-O break." Jack didn't say with whom; he didn't need to.

Dixon nodded at another airman, then paused as Jack stopped outside his office door, "Which reminds me. Bel wanted to know whether you and your team would like to come around to dinner."

Jack blinked. That was an odd request. "You want my _team_ to come around for _dinner_?"

"Well, she actually wants to meet the Major," Dixon shrugged. "Some female thing, I guess. She offered something on that list you made for the Major - I don't know. She told me to ask you."

Daniel would have had something to say about the choice of verbs. Dixon's wife _told_ him to ask SG-1? Jack resisted the urge to say something about whipped men. "I'll ask the guys. It'll either have to be really soon, or after the Targonian delegation. Carter and Daniel will both be pretty much useless while they're here, and they'll still be going on it for weeks after."

"Well, tomorrow night is free as far as I know - and if that's not too soon for you guys - but I'll check with Bel and let you know." Dixon turned away and headed off down the corridor as Jack swiped his pass and let himself into his office.

He'd just dumped the files into his out tray - Halliwell would sort through them later - when his cell rang. He picked it up, "O'Neill."

"Sir? It's Detective Michaels of the Colorado Springs Police station. We've found your truck."

An hour later, he and Carter arrived at a rest area on the Interstate and surveyed the burned-out wreck.

Overhead, birds twittered, an odd counterpoint to the steady zoom of the traffic and the occasional roar of a truck down the interstate. Carter walked up to the truck and peered in one of the broken windows.

"Looks like they battered it up pretty good before they set it on fire," he remarked, glancing around to find the cruiser he'd been assured would meet them here.

A moment later, the cruiser drove into the rest area.

"I think your insurance premium's gone," she noted as she walked around it.

Jack grimaced at her, and her mouth tugged to one side in slight amusement.

The chocolate had worked by way of apology. However, according to her, he now owed her a caramel fudge sundae to make up for the lack of Jell-O. Jack wasn't sure quite how that worked, but after seeing his beloved truck reduced to scorched scrap-metal and broken glass, he figured he could do with a caramel fudge sundae, too.

Maybe they'd drop by a Wendy's on the way back or something...

The officer who climbed out of the cruiser was middle aged, balding, and on the heavyset side. "Mr. Jack O'Neill?"

"_Colonel_ Jack O'Neill."

The guy belatedly took in the uniform. "Colonel, sorry. Detective Michaels." The officer glanced at Carter as she circled the wreck, inspecting door handles and crouching down to regard the pattern of scorch marks down the side of the car. She didn't look up, so he waved a clipboard at the blackened wreck. "This was reported in by a driver early this morning. We only cross-referenced it an hour ago. It's yours?"

"Yeah." Jack winced. "It's mine."

"Was there anything valuable in it?"

"No." Taking work home was out - the reports he had to read through and authorise were classified and too hard to easily explain away. Carter or Daniel could get away with it under the guise of experimental technology and unpublished findings, Jack couldn't. "Just the truck itself."

"Okay." The guy made a few checks on the clipboard. "The number you left at the station is the one that's easiest to get you on?"

"Yeah. Not always reliable, but if I don't answer, just leave a message."

"Well, we'll take the truck in as evidence, but you know, it was probably just teenagers mucking around." The guy shrugged. "If we find anything, we'll let you know."

And that was that.

"Time to go truck shopping again, sir?" Carter asked as they climbed back into her car.

"Guess so."

"Another Ford?"

"Don't see why not. They're big, reliable, comfy..."

"Gas guzzling, unwieldy...and you don't really use it, sir."

"What are you saying, Carter?" They were heading down the interstate on the way back to Colorado Springs now.

She rolled her eyes, "Never mind, sir."

He watched her as she drove them back towards the mountains. In her fatigues, the pregnancy wasn't immediately obvious, unless you counted the eye-catching radiance about her. Of course, Carter attracted attention anyway, so that was nothing new.

Jack bit back a grimace. Okay, so maybe it hadn't been the wisest thing to be sitting with Carter in her bedroom on Saturday evening. But she'd wanted to talk away from their team-mates, and he'd been willing to talk with her.

Her willingness to talk about Melissa had surprised and hurt him. On one hand, he was relieved that she wasn't going to make a fuss about the other woman. On the other hand, he felt angry that she could discuss Mel's place in his life so calmly, while the thought of Shanahan and Carter made him want to punch something. It just wasn't fair.

He wished she didn't have to understand.

He wished Mel didn't have to understand, either.

He'd cancelled his Friday night 'dates' with Mel for the time being, having the feeling that Carter needed him around more than he needed whatever relief he found by being with Mel. He'd miss her and the...services she provided. But, much as he enjoyed her company and the time spent with a woman who didn't see him as a commander first and a man second, he owed first allegiance to Carter, and always would.

"Are we going to get sundaes?" He asked as they passed Wendy's.

She blinked. "Oh, sundaes," she said, almost as if she'd forgotten entirely about the ice-cream. "Could we stop somewhere and get a pint of Ben and Jerry's instead?"

He arched a brow, "Got a craving for something?"

"No," she denied, flushing. Then she looked at him, abashed, "I just want some chocolate..."

Jack smirked. "You're the driver, Carter."

He followed her inside the supermart, noting that she knew exactly where the frozen foods department was. Did women have a radar that enabled them to know exactly where the things like ice-cream and chocolate were placed in a supermarket? Jack had no idea.

She handed him a pint of Chocolate Fudge Brownie - a flavour that Jack had always considered just a little over the top. He preferred Cherry Garcia himself. She handed him a second tub, which he took without a murmur. Women could go through that stuff at ridiculous speeds.

Then she reached for a third tub...

How much was the woman going to eat, anyway? "Uh, are you actually going to eat all..." He should have known better than to protest. Sara had given him that look when he questioned something that she didn't think merited an answer. Jack held up his hands in surrender. From pregnant women with military training and PhDs, good Lord deliver him.

She took the first tub from him and headed down the aisle, towards the registers. Jack shook his head and followed after, only to have someone pluck at his sleeve.

The guy was maybe seventy, but the grey eyes were sharp as they flickered from Jack to Carter and back to Jack again. "Buddy, just let the little woman get the food she wants to eat. Believe me, you're better off just sticking to the bedroom - sometimes it seems it's all they think we're good for..." The grin grew cheerfully lascivious, and Jack froze as a sudden image flashed through his brain; Carter naked in his bed, her mouth in his, her hands on his skin...

_Shit._ He smiled, and hoped it was less of a grimace than he suspected it was. "Thanks," he managed through a mouth that was drier than the Saudi desert. The guy moved away, and Jack stared at the ice-cream compartment for a long moment before he decided, _What the hell,_ and grabbed a tub of Cherry Garcia. The odds of getting any of the three pints of ice-cream she'd already taken was less than finding Anubis sitting on the SGC's doorstep having had a change of heart about taking over the galaxy.

Carter, thank God, hadn't apparently heard the old guy's comment, because she was standing in the queue, eyeing the magazines. Jack went and stood behind her. "You know, I've never understood the attraction of Cameron Diaz's cellulite." He pointed at one of the magazine headlines.

"Except that it's on Cameron Diaz?" Carter smirked slightly.

"Well..." Jack didn't mention that Cameron Diaz was also blonde-haired, with blue eyes and long legs. Of course, it was Diaz's job to be beautiful; Carter's job was to be functional - and yet along the way, she was beautiful too.

He wondered if Carter had cellulite.

"How many times have you watched Charlie's Angels, sir?"

"Um... I plead the Fifth."

The Carter-smirk was both disconcerting and adorable as they moved up to the checkout counter and the kid standing at the register swiped the items through. Her eyes flickered up over the fatigues, over Carter's face, and up to Jack's. She gave him a shy smile.

As they walked away, Carter leaned towards him, "I think she's a bit young for you, Colonel."

"I was just smiling..." Jack protested before he caught the wicked gleam in her eyes. And maybe a hint of vulnerability. Carter turned heads wherever she went, but she was heading towards forty, and that always occasioned a certain panic in a woman.

Sara had developed this need for reassurance that Jack still found her attractive, which had been fun, just...tiring. Hard to arrange, too, especially with an energetic and inquisitive eight year old running around the house.

The problem with Carter was that Jack wasn't supposed to find her attractive, so he couldn't reassure her that he still did. And he definitely couldn't reassure her in the same way he'd reassured Sara.

"_...you're better off just sticking to the bedroom._.."

Definitely no. Bad Jack.

Damn he hated being her commanding officer. Loved it, but hated it, too. He was still trying to think of something to say when his cell hummed in his pocket.

_Saved by the bell?_

"Probably the cops again," he said with a light smile for her, as he opened it up. "O'Neill."

"Jack." Daniel's voice was quick and relieved. "Thank God. Dr. Warner just called my office from Memorial Emergency. Teal'c's been hit by a car."


	15. Taking Sides 5

** Secrets and Shadows: Taking Sides**

**Part Five  
**

For all his acquaintance with them, Daniel had never liked hospitals.

In the first couple of years, it had been a running joke that Daniel had a bed in the infirmary with his name written on it. He'd been injured often enough that it seemed like someone upstairs had it in for him.

But he'd never liked hospitals.

He was an archaeologist, he studied cultures that had long since passed into dust. Anthropology was a secondary interest, the people of then and now and the comparisons between them. And so Daniel had always hated hospitals and the clean, polite, sterile service that matched the clean, polite, sterile rooms.

A hospital was the antithesis of a ruined city, in Daniel's opinion. People just died in hospitals. At least the people who had lived in ruins had _lived_ and not just died. Nobody lived in a hospital, they just existed.

And now, SG-1 existed in the corridor of the Memorial Hospital Emergency department, waiting for news of their friend.

It was turning out to be a bad month for SG-1.

He twisted slightly and winced, then put his hand to his sides and gently massaged the scar tissue left over from his operation. It still ached a bit, but it was healing reasonably well. Dr. Brightman had warned that there would be no running from any Jaffa for a while yet, and that suited Daniel just fine.

That the effects of the operation were limited to a scar was entirely due to Sam.

After using the Goa'uld healing device to determine the internal bleeding on him, she'd waited until after the operation, then received permission to attempt some healing on Daniel's wounds and scars. It was the first time she'd really tested those abilities, and the effort had left her drained and shaking. She'd been so weak afterwards, she hadn't even been able to protest when Jack took the device off her and forced her to lie down on one of the infirmary beds until she could get up without wobbling - or so reported Teal'c.

Daniel glanced down the corridor towards the doors where Teal'c was having his operation.

What a mess.

They didn't know the details, only that Teal'c had been hit by a car in the local Wal-Mart parking lot. Exactly what had happened was unclear, only that the car was still at the parking lot.

And Teal'c was still in the operating room.

Jack's boots paced up and down the same stretch of corridor they'd been walking for the last fifteen minutes.

"Jack," Daniel said at last, tired of the 'clump-clump-clump' of footsteps echoing along the corridor. "Sit."

Sam looked up from the book she'd been staring at, _What to Expect when you're Expecting_. Daniel had no idea where she'd gotten the book, but he suspected that she hadn't got quite as much reading done as she pretended she had.

"Daniel..."

"If you keep pacing, then I'm probably going to do something that will end with one of _us_ hospitalised, Jack," Daniel told him, evenly.

Jack sat down, although not before rolling his eyes at Sam.

Two tubs of now-melted ice-cream sat on the chair beside Sam. She'd gone through a whole pint in less than half an hour, and when either of her team-mates attempted to swipe some from her, she'd rapped them over the knuckles with her spoon and glared. The second pint had taken an hour, but it went, too. Jack had opened up his Cherry Garcia, and he and Daniel shared the pint, occasionally trying to sneak some of Sam's chocolate fudge and risking sore knuckles.

Daniel still didn't know whose spoons they were. He imagined some poor orderly, standing in a kitchenette _sans_ spoons and wondering where they'd all gone. He didn't care.

_There is no spoon._

Teal'c had loved the Matrix trilogy.

Daniel hastily corrected that thought: _Teal'c loves the Matrix trilogy. Present tense. He's not dead._

_Not yet,_ added a grim little voice in the back of his mind.

Teal'c was still in the operating room, and they had no idea what was going on.

Of them all, Sam seemed the most calm. It was probably an act. Sam was good at pretending everything was fine, even if it wasn't. One of these days, Daniel would have to ask how she did that.

The slap-slap of hospital-shod feet gained their attention, and they looked up at Dr. Warner as he approached them, drying his hands on a white towel. There were smudges of blood on his sleeve, but he'd taken off his operating scrubs before coming out to see them. "Colonel, Major, Doctor. He's stable."

"Will he be okay?" Daniel asked, knowing that 'stable' wasn't always a good survival indicator.

Warner hesitated as he dried off his right index finger, "I won't lie, it's going to be down to the wire. He'll need all the medicine we can lay our hands on, and he'll do best if we can get him transferred back to the mountain." The intonation of 'medicine' indicated that he meant Teal'c's tretonin supplies. "But it's fairly straightforwards from here."

Sam was crushing the pages of the book in her hand. "Do you have any idea what happened?"

Dr. Warner shook his head, "The EMT said something about being hit by two cars, but other than that..." He shrugged. "From what I gathered, it was a bad case of wrong place, wrong time. He no longer has the kind of protection he had before he lost his little friend, and that will make a significant difference in his recovery. It's going to be slow." One hand pressed lightly down over his eyelids.

"Time to heal?" Jack asked.

"Depends," the Doc said, with more calm than might be expected of a man who'd just spent four hours in surgery and was now facing a firing squad of questions. "Standard recovery time now he no longer carries Junior is longer than before. His medication helps...but I'd say at least two, three weeks." He dropped his hand and slung the towel over his shoulder. "They won't let you in to see him tonight," he added, looking up at each of them. "We'll check he's stable here, then probably transfer him to the mountain in the morning. If one of you wants to ride with him, that shouldn't be a problem."

"I call shotgun."

Warner cracked a faint grin and checked his watch. "It's too late to go into the office, and you've all had a busy day. Go home," he told them as he turned away. "Get some rest. I'm going to."

"Thanks, Ron," Sam said.

He waved a hand over his shoulder, a good man and a good-natured one, for all that he found himself dealing with situations that his medical training had never told him about. While his interaction with SG-1 had been limited over the years, he'd attended to many an other SG-team competently and cheerfully.

"Well," Jack said, clapping his hands together. "You heard the Doc. Home."

Daniel eyed him, "When have _you_ ever obeyed doctor's orders, Jack?"

Sam smirked collected their rubbish and started off down the corridor and, after a glare at Daniel, Jack walked after her. Daniel hurried after them.

"I'll call the hospital tomorrow morning to find out when they're transporting Teal'c," Daniel said as they paused at the edge of the parking lot. The evening was fast falling down around them, the days getting shorter as they plunged towards winter. Even now, the air was, if not cold, then without the soft, easy burr of summer warmth.

A glance at Sam showed weariness etched clearly on her features, even in the softer twilight. He touched her elbow. "You're okay taking Jack home?"

There were a lot of other questions Daniel wanted to ask her, like how she was sleeping, how she was eating, whether or not she'd spoken to Shanahan yet, what she'd decided about the baby...

He didn't, and she simply nodded, "It's fine, Daniel." Her house, although quite a ways from Jack's, was still on the same side of town. Daniel's was way across town, making 'lifts' difficult. The paperwork for Jack to borrow one of the Air Force vehicles would be processed in a day or so. Until then, he was reliant on airmen and his team-mates to get him around.

"Call me before you go in, tomorrow," Daniel added as his friends started over towards Sam's car.

"Will do," Sam promised.

The jeep moved slowly through the early evening traffic, and Daniel took the time to think over the day's happenings.

He didn't believe in God, per se. He believed in a consciousness to the universe, but wasn't willing to give it a name. It seemed safer that way.

Nevertheless, he thanked the universe's consciousness all the way back to his house. For small mercies, gratefulness was definitely the order of the day.

As he reached his house, he wanted nothing so much as his bed, and maybe a quick call to Linda, see how she was doing. He parked the car, turned off the headlights and yawned as he climbed out of the car and headed inside.

At the door, he paused in the act of reaching for the door handle.

His front door was slightly ajar.

Slowly, pushed the door open, and switched on the hallway light.

Chaos met his gaze.

The shards of a priceless pottery vase, circa 1890, lay tumbled at his feet. The stylised pattern of lilies around the rim gleamed up at him, forever shattered. Further in, the Tiffany lampshade sported dark holes in the stained glass pattern of its dome, like teeth punched out of the smile of an otherwise beautiful woman.

A quick glance further into the house showed the same pattern of destruction, the same disarray.

Someone had gone through his house quite thoroughly. Someone not Daniel, nor anyone to whom he'd given a key to get into the house.

He stood quite still for a long moment, listening for the sound of someone who might still wait in the darkness. Nothing.

Daniel turned on his heel, fumbling in his pocket as searched for his cellphone. He hit the speed dial, feeling as though his fingers were all thumbs, and waited for the other end to pick up. Eight rings later - an eternity of waiting - Jack answered the phone, lazily. "O'Neill, here."

"Jack, are you home yet?" The words tumbled from his mouth, beyond his control.

"Not yet. What's up?" The question was sharp, a reaction to the apprehension in Daniel's voice.

"Can you and Sam come over?"

Jack's voice blurred as he spoke away from the phone. "Can we head over to Daniel's?"

"Sure. What's up?" Sam's words were clear, although she sounded distant.

"Dunno." Jack's voice was suddenly in Daniel's ear again. "What's going on?"

"I think I've been burgled."

"You think?"

Daniel gritted his teeth, in no mood for word games. "The door was open when I got home and it looks like someone's come in and systematically destroyed my stuff."

"Destroyed it?"

A glance into the living room showed more than mere destruction. "They took my DVD player and television," he said. That didn't bother Daniel. What bothered him more was the way the rest of his property - so much of it irreplaceable - had been wrecked. Theft, he could handle. Willful destruction was something else.

And then there was the fact that his house - his space - had been violated so thoroughly. His skin crawled.

"Have you called the police yet?"

"Not yet. That was next on my list." Daniel knew enough about thefts to know that the police wouldn't be able to do anything other than take down the details of what had been taken.

"Call 'em now. We'll be there in fifteen."

Daniel closed up the phone and called the police, reporting the burglary. Then he went through the house, room by room, mentally cataloguing the damage.

There was a lot of damage.

Daniel was looking through his journals, trying to determine if any had been opened or taken. He didn't think so, but he wanted to be sure. Some of them had classified information in them.

"Hello?" The call came from the front door. Sam. "Daniel?"

"In the bedroom," he called back. No. None of them were missing.

A few seconds later, Sam peered into the room. "My God," she said, wincing. "It's like this in every room?"

"Yeah," Daniel said, heaving himself off the floor with a grimace.

"Sheesh," Jack muttered, regarding the slashed pictures on the wall. Daniel made a mental note to look for the sword that had hung over the mantelpiece.

"They were amateurs," Daniel noted bitterly, following Jack's gaze.

"Oh?"

Daniel pointed at the entertainment unit where his stereo had once sat. "They took electronic equipment worth a couple of hundred, and destroyed antiques worth several thousand."

"Why destroy anything at all?" Sam murmured.

"Vicarious thrill?" Jack offered, and turned towards the window where a car had just pulled up outside. "I think the cops are here."

They were. However, much as Daniel had expected, the police weren't able to do much more than take a list of the items stolen and inquire after Daniel's insurance.

"The extent of the damage is unusual," the female officer offered. "Usually they just take the electronics and get out of there." She turned to regard him, "Do you have any personal enemies? People who might hold grudges?"

"No," Daniel lied. There was no point in saying, 'Yes,' and then having to explain that the people who did hold a grudge against him were more likely to come looking for him in a flotilla of spaceships than with a gun.

"Ah well, sometimes people just...get destructive." Her mouth pursed as her partner folded up his notebook and waited with his hands on his hips - a classic pose of impatience. "I hope you're insured?"

"Yes." Financially, everything was all insured. But how did you replace the irreplaceable?

"That's something anyway," the male officer noted. "Look, I'll be honest with you, we're not likely to find the perps, so you'd best call your insurance and let them know the deal straight away." He glanced around at the chaos. "In the meantime, I don't imagine you want to start the cleanup right now... Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"

Fifteen minutes later, Daniel was tuning the radio out of his head as Jack fiddled with the channels. He and Jack were driving to Jack's house, Sam was headed home herself.

She'd looked just about ready to fall asleep at the wheel, but when Daniel asked if she wanted a lift home, she'd refused.

So here Daniel was, driving a car-less Colonel home.

It was a run of bad luck that everything seemed to be happening to SG-1 all at once. Jack's car burned out, Teal'c getting hit, Daniel being burgled.

Now, all they needed was for something to happen to Sam.

Daniel braked. Hard.

"Daniel?"

He didn't speak as he swung the car around in an illegal u-turn. He wasn't sure he could breathe. "We're going to Sam's house."

"What? Daniel are you nuts...?"

"Do you really think it's a coincidence that all this is happening at once?" Daniel demanded.

He could feel Jack's frown, "Sometimes shit happens."

"And sometimes shit is organised."

"Organised, by... Oh no." Jack said quietly. "He wouldn't."

"Do you want to bet Sam's life on it?"

"He wouldn't hurt Carter."

"Maybe not," Daniel conceded. "But do you want to risk it?"

"I don't seem to be getting much of a choice." Jack sat back. "Do you have any proof?"

Daniel snorted, "No. Just a feeling..."

"A feeling?"

"Yes. A feeling. And I've been right on feelings before." Daniel didn't have to mention the number of times he'd gotten SG-1 out of trouble on nothing more than an intuition.

"And if you're wrong on this one?"

"Look," Daniel stated, thinking fast. He had to find a way to at least solidly convince Jack that they should take precautions for Sam, if nothing else, since it very much looked like SG-1 was being targeted for some purpose or another. "At the very least, it doesn't look all that good, okay? Your car gets stolen and burned out..."

"It's just a car..."

"...then Teal'c gets hit by a car..."

"People get hit by cars all the time..."

"_Two_ cars - in a parking lot..."

"Bad luck."

"And _then_ my house is burgled - and not just burgled, but someone goes in there with the intention of causing a great deal of destruction," Daniel said. He glanced at Jack's face, caught in the waxing and waning chiroscuiro of the street lights. "What? You don't think he's capable of..."

"Oh, I think he's capable of it," Jack assured him. "I just think you're barking up the wrong tree."

"Okay, then think of it this way," Daniel accelerated around a corner, causing Jack to grab for the hand-hold on the door. "Even if it's not Shanahan - and it might not be - it's still a pattern related to SG-1. That means Sam is next on the list."

"Isn't that assuming that it's all intentional?"

Daniel frowned as he waited for the traffic to ease so he could get out onto North Academy Boulevarde. "Yes."

"And?"

"And isn't it a little too 'accidental' that the week after pissing off her ex-boyfriend, we - Sam's team-mates - find ourselves the victims of various criminal activities?"

"Isn't that just a bit too obvious?"

"Jack, this is the guy who ran into the middle of a stakeout without the faintest idea what was going on. Subtlety is not his middle name." Daniel glanced at his passenger. "And you're doing it again."

"What?"

"Defending him."

"I do not..."

"You've had this whole backlash thing happening ever since Sam started going out with him."

Jack scowled, "Explain."

Daniel drove, "Everything's okay with you. Too okay. Would it kill you to admit that it hurts that Sam is dating a loser? Do you have to be so...so _nice_ about it?"

"You seem to be being bitchy enough for the both of us, Daniel."

"Yeah, well I don't have to kid myself that I'm not in love with her, Jack." The instant he said it, Daniel knew he was in deep kimchee. Rule number one about anything between his friends was to never suggest that anything had ever happened, was in the process of happening, or would ever happen. And if such a thing ever _was_ suggested, then it was advisable either get out of the immediate airspace or change the topic very fast.

Daniel did neither. "Believe it or not, it _is_ okay not to like the guy. Just because you're worried that someone will point the finger at you and accuse you of impropriety is no reason to consider the guy all above-board."

Silence.

Daniel really _was_ in deep kimchee. He tried again. "You're not reacting reasonably to this, Jack. Say this was happening to Cassie, you'd be in there issuing threats with the most terrifying of them."

"Cassie's younger."

"I'm saying that just because it's Sam doesn't mean you have to tiptoe around the fact that Shanahan is not exactly the nicest flower in the posy."

"Nicest flower in the posy?" Jack questioned.

"It's a metaphor," Daniel managed. "And it's still a pattern, and Sam's the next link."

"And what do you propose we do, then?" Jack demanded. "Camp out at Carter's?"

"See if she can be persuaded to stay up at the mountain."

"For how long, Daniel?"

"Until we can get proof. Or until the danger has passed. I don't know. Something." He paused. "If it is Shanahan, we can a restraining order out on him."

"Based on what?"

"The phonecalls and flowers."

"Daniel, that was nearly a month ago..."

"Jack, stop being such a dickhead."

"Only if you stop being an asshole." Great. Now they were going for snide.

"Sure," Daniel snapped as they turned into Sam's street. "Look, I'm not asking for your support."

"Good, because you're not getting it. You're the driver, I'm just the passenger."

They drove around a car parked in front of Sam's neighbour's house, and pulled up behind her Volvo. "Just don't dismiss this idea out of hand, okay?"

Jack stared over at the sleepy little bungalow with its hedge and its gate and the porch, and the light inside that showed Sam was home. "Whatever, Daniel."

Then Daniel was out of the car and at the gate. Somewhere in the neighbourhood, a dog barked, and he turned to glance over his shoulder. The streetlights weren't very bright but the street looked empty.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was just bad luck and coincidence.

Bad things happened in threes, right?

He pushed open the gate and walked up the path. The motion-sensor porchlight came on - had Sam been expecting someone? Jack was climbing out of the car, deliberately slower, making it clear he had no part of this.

Daniel reached out and rang the bell.

It sounded very loud.

A shuffle of curtains and a click of the lock later, and Sam was staring at him. "Daniel? What's going on?"

He let himself sigh with relief. No sign that there was anyone here. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Still, paranoid was better than victimised. And he still had to explain the situation to Sam. "I think that the whole pattern of things happening to us might be more than just bad luck, Sam. I think someone's acting out a vendetta against SG-1. Jack, Teal'c, me...you're next."

It wasn't exactly what he'd intended to say to her; not straight off the bat. He could hear Jack's heavy sigh from behind him, taste Sam's half-amused disbelief as her shadowed eyes blinked at him in surprise.

"Someone?" She asked.

"Yes." He knew the next question was coming. He could see it a mile away.

"Who?"

He opened his mouth to give a response, and a car started up in the street behind them. Without any real thought, he glanced out at the street and saw a car drive off. "You're probably not going to believe this..." he began, then stopped as he saw the crease forming between her eyebrows as she watched the car drive off. "Sam?"

"That car..."

"2001 Lexus," Jack said from behind him. "Silver grey, Colorado numberplate TWKD or something." He shrugged when Daniel looked quizzically at him. "I was thinking of getting a sedan." His eyes went back over Daniel's shoulder to where Sam was standing, milk-white in the porch light, one hand holding onto the doorframe for balance. "Carter?"

Slowly, she spoke. "That's Pete's car."

**E****nd of 'Taking Sides'**

Part Four: **'What You Don't Know'** will be up soon. It is the final chapter in this mammoth - the story is whole and finished and will be fully posted before Christmas 2004. I promise!

**CHARACTER NOTES REMINDER:** For the character of Pete Shanahan, I extrapolated on the base of what the writers of the show gave us in the Season 7 episode 'Chimera' (obsessive, paranoid, manipulative, and inept) and simply haven't smoothed everything over with a 'no harm, no foul' at the end.


	16. What You Don't Know 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: My genfic 'Hostage Situation' is a prequel to this story. It is not necessary to have read 'HS', however it will help with some minor references. In timeline, we went AU before the Season 8 episode 'New Order' and everything that has happened since then is not included in these pages. Characterisation of Pete Shanahan is taken from his depiction in 'Chimera' and nowhere else.

Please note, this story contains Sam/Jack; if that is not your cup of tea, then please don't read the story and then whinge about it containing S/J.

**Secrets and Shadows: What You Don't Know  
**

**Part One  
**

Teal'c was exhausted. He'd woken up early this Wednesday morning to the reverberations of pain all through his shoulder and left arm, and the medications he'd been fed since then had lessened, but not removed it. His torso, still raw and tender, ached abominably as he shifted to slightly relieve the pressure on his buttocks. 

He had lain in bed most of the morning, his body trying to recover from the injury done to it. At midday, he had roused briefly for lunch, and his friends had come to visit him shortly afterwards. In truth, Teal'c had hoped to watch Oprah this afternoon, however his friends' presences and discussion made that unlikely in the near future.

"It's circumstantial evidence at best," Samantha said.

Teal'c pitied the weariness in her voice, in her pose. She sat on a chair near the foot of the bed, staring at the sheets and refusing to meet the gazes of her former team-mates.

Daniel Jackson leaned his hip against the side of the infirmary bed where Teal'c rested; beyond him, O'Neill lay on his side on the next empty bed. He was watching their team-mates closely, his expression giving no hints as to his personal opinion on the matter.

"But enough to get a restraining order out on him," Daniel insisted.

"Daniel..." O'Neill's voice was quieter, warning.

"At the very least..."

"At the very least, we're making plans to ensure that whoever or whatever may have been targeting us won't get a shot at us for a while," O'Neill said. His professional neutrality was evident, although his personal opinion was plain enough.

"What plans?" Teal'c saw the glance that passed between O'Neill and Samantha. So, too, did Daniel. "What's going on?"

Samantha took a deep breath. "We've cancelled the Targonian delegation's visit here," she said, simply.

Considering how much Daniel Jackson had been looking forward to the Targonian visit, his response was expected. "What?!"

"We're sending a delegation to Targonia," Samantha told him.

"Who? When?"

"Where, why, and how," O'Neill added dryly. "Carter, Meridian, Reeve, and Haley - enough technical skill to recreate a glider. Not big on the diplomatic front, but they'll do." He grinned as Samantha grimaced slightly.

"So kind, sir."

His teasing served its intended purpose; it brought her out of the temporary withdrawl into which she had gone upon learning of her former lover's actions. Not, Teal'c added, punctiliously, that his hand behind the actions was proven.

Daniel Jackson had been disconcerted to discover that, in truth, the cars that hit Teal'c were accidental. The releasing of all the air from Teal'c's tyres were not. He had stepped out into the flow of traffic, too distracted to think of passing cars, and been hit by one vehicle travelling too swiftly within the parking lot and thrust into the fender of another vehicle travelling faster than the speed limit.

As with O'Neill's car and Daniel's house, the evidence was circumstantial. That did not preclude Teal'c's forming of his own opinions, even if they were not voiced. He did not carry a good image of the Detective, particularly after the scene at Samantha's house last weekend.

"How long?"

"Two weeks," Samantha said quietly. "Enough time for things to quiet down over here..."

"Are you going to tell him?" Daniel asked, "Or do you just plan to vanish?"

He needed no elaboration, nor did her grimace. "I'll call him before I go," she said, defensively. "It's not as though..." She trailed off, but Teal'c could almost hear her unspoken words. _It's not as though he can tell me what I can and can't do..._

"We've upped the timetable, too," O'Neill added, smoothly stepping into the moment. "The girls leave on Sunday morning instead of Monday morning."

"That's going to make things busy."

"Really busy," O'Neill agreed.

"Sam?"

She crossed her arms over her body, "We don't even know if it's him, Daniel."

"I do."

"And how are you going to convince a judge of that?" Sam demanded. "Really?"

Daniel Jackson had no answer for that. "I'm not going to sit by while he wrecks your life, Sam."

"And I don't expect you to," she responded evenly. "But no restraining orders. Give him some time to calm down..."

"Calm down?" Daniel asked, skeptically. "Uhuh. Your ex-boyfriend and father of your child burns out the car of the man he thinks you're cheating with, lets the air out of another friend's tyres, and arranges to have a third friend burgled, and you think he's going to calm down?"

Were it not for the impossibility of it, Teal'c might have believed that the computer monitors in the infirmary ward had chosen to beep softer than before Daniel Jackson's pronouncement.

"Jesus, Daniel, which part of 'circumstantial' didn't you get?" O'Neill snapped.

Daniel coloured. His muttered apology to Samantha was suitably penitent, but there were bright spots of high colour in Samantha's face as she spoke.

"I want you to leave it alone, Daniel," she repeated, standing up. "I'm gone for the next two weeks, and I don't want you to do _anything_ on my behalf when it comes to Pete. At all." She gave him a searching glare, then nodded at O'Neill, nodded at Teal'c, and left.

It was evidently not a topic which she cared to discuss right now.

The room was silent until the sounds of her footsteps had faded off into the distance.

"There are times when you take the cake, Daniel," O'Neill stated, more calmly than Teal'c would have expected from his friend.

Daniel glared at him. "You..."

"Daniel, regardless of whether or not you agree with her, you are going to respect her wishes."

"Jack..."

"Daniel..." O'Neill stared hard at him. "There is nothing to explicitly link any of the last couple of days to Shanahan. Not even the fact that he was waiting outside her house last night. So don't even try."

"If it _is_ him..."

"If it is, then he won't stop this as long as Carter refuses to have him back. And sooner or later he'll slip up."

Daniel's expression flared with the brief gleam of vindictive eagerness, "And when he does..."

"When he does, we'll be down on him like a ton of bricks." O'Neill's smile was unamused. "But then. Not now."

A nod was all the response he received from that quarter. It would have to suffice. "Are we still doing dinner tomorrow night with the Dixons?"

"Teal'c won't be," O'Neill glanced towards Teal'c and the bandages that still swathed his body.

The pain of the wounds was a faint nag, nothing that he had not experienced before. He was healing adequately after the injury, but it would be several days before he was fit to move about on his own power, let alone leave the base.

This morning, he had refused Samantha Carter's offer of assistance with the healing device, stating that she required her strength for the child. He had seen the relief in O'Neill's eyes as he did so and was glad he had not succumbed to the brief temptation. A little extra pain was more than worth his friend's continued good health. And he was not entirely trusting of the Goa'uld device - even in the hands of one so well-meaning as Major Carter.

"Yeah," Daniel Jackson looked mortified at having forgotten Teal'c's state of body. "Are you going to file any charges against the people who did this to you?"

"I see little reason to do so," Teal'c stated. "It was an accident." Both drivers had been horrified by their actions; Teal'c remembered the cries of alarm as he lay on the ground and tried to remember how to breathe.

Already, he had received bouquets of flowers from the drivers - sent along to him via Memorial Hospital's Intensive Care Unit. Had he been available to the parties who injured him, Teal'c had little doubt he'd have received many apologies, and would have been pestered by the curiosity of his visitors - as well as the doctors and nurses who attended him. There was little that could be done to disguise the fact that his brand did not come off, or that he possessed a gaping wound in his belly where his primta once rested, and the less questions that came of attending him, the better.

Daniel frowned. "Jack, remind me again... Belinda Dixon asked us around for dinner...why?"

"Because she offered to cook a meal for Carter when the kid's born, and she wanted to meet Carter. And since Dixon didn't think that Carter would be willing to come around without moral support, he invited the lot of us."

"Generous," Daniel observed.

"Either that or whipped," O'Neill said lightly, a brief smirk outlined on his features.

"O'Neill," Teal'c observed. "I believe that, were you married to Belinda Dixon, you would also be 'whipped.'"

Now it was Daniel Jackson's turn to smirk. He swiftly blanked the expression from his face as O'Neill glared at him. "I think I'll go somewhere else, now," he stated, his mouth still twitching.

Teal'c hid his own amusement at O'Neill's infuriated expression as their friend departed in haste.

"You're sure you're okay about tonight? I mean, we can call it off, do it another time."

"That will not be necessary. I am in good physical health for my circumstances, O'Neill." Teal'c paused, pondering whether or not to ask the question. Both he and O'Neill had more realistic understandings of the world than Daniel Jackson and he wished for his friend's frank opinion. "Do you believe, as does Daniel Jackson, that Detective Shanahan is responsible for these acts?"

The silence was long, but O'Neill's expression was set. "For Carter's sake, I'd like to believe he isn't," he said at last, swinging his legs off the bed. "But it fits his personality profile." He shrugged, "Whether it is or it isn't doesn't make a difference. We're still going to stick by Carter."

And that, Teal'c knew, was what mattered most to his friend.

"It is well that she will be off-world for some time," he said. Of late, there had been few things to distract Samantha from her personal predicament. This mission would be a diversion, something in which she could enjoyably immerse herself without the distractions of her life.

"Yeah, Carter will love it in Targonia. And they'll probably love her and the girls, too." O'Neill shrugged. "The Targonians will keep her healthy and her mind off the stuff happening around here, so it's a good way to deal with everything going on right now." Judging by O'Neill's wince, the 'everything going on right now' was not something he particularly cared to deal with either; he changed the topic with considerable alacrity. "Do you need anything, Teal'c?"

"I am well, O'Neill."

"Right. Look, if you need anything, or if you get bored with daytime television...just gimme a yell."

"I shall."

Teal'c waited until his friend was gone, then used the bed controls to lie back, wincing only slightly as the motion jostled tender flesh.

Then he used the television remote to activate the overhead screen. It was, he saw, too late for Oprah, but he might be in time to catch Dr. Phil.


	17. What You Don't Know 2

**Secrets and Shadows: What You Don't Know  
**

**Part Two  
**

Glasses clinked noisily in the bar, and the scent of cooking steak wafted out through the room, underpinned by baked potatoes and something spicy. The laughter and conversation around them ebbed and flowed, rising and falling in a rhythm unrelated to the beat of the band who howled out their tune through the background speakers of O'Malley's bar and grill on a Thursday night.

They'd dropped by the bar on the way to Dixon's place from another set of interviews up at Petersen. Only one of this lot had seemed any good to him, but he'd wait until tomorrow and their meeting with Hammond to discuss the matter with Dixon.

Since they were heading back early, Dixon had suggested a quick drink before heading home. "_Give Bel a chance to order the kids into tidying up the house,_" the married man had suggested with a twinkle in his eye.

So they'd dropped into O'Malley's, and were sitting there, talking over everything from the recent election to the scars their respective teams had gained through the years. In an hour or so, they'd head out for Dixon's, where they'd meet Carter and Daniel, have dinner, then drive back to the base for the night.

The time out of the mountain was a nice change. Living on the base for the last two days had once again made Jack aware of how much he appreciated the sky overhead and the earth beneath his feet. When all was said and done, Jack was an outdoorsy kind of guy.

He'd just about relaxed, with good company and a good beer, when Dixon's eyes narrowed as his gaze drifted over Jack's shoulder. "Don't look now, but I think we're about to get a visit from a pissed-off cop."

Jack didn't turn around. He didn't need to.

A moment later, there was a hand on the table beside his elbow, and Shanahan edged into his peripheral vision. If the pugnacious set of the jaw was any indication, he was spoiling for a fight.

"Detective," he said, keeping his voice light.

"Colonel."

Jack glanced at Dixon, saw the other man's eyes take in someone else behind him. He trusted Dixon to give him adequate warning if anything went down. But surely even Shanahan wasn't so stupid as to force a confrontation like this.

Oh what the hell. Might as well plunge into the fray. "Have you called Carter to apologise, yet?"

"What for?"

"You know perfectly well what for."

Bitterness contorted the soft features into brief anger, "Is it mine?"

_What do you take Carter for?_ "What do you think?" Jack asked acidly. Oh, this was a waste of time. Shanahan was going to believe what he wanted to believe, just the same way he'd believed that Carter's work was a threat to his relationship with her and followed her around so he could find out what she did. Nothing Jack could do or say was going to stop that.

But he regretted that Carter would pay the price in uncertainty and bitter accusation.

"You had your chance, O'Neill," Shanahan's words were ugly and Jack froze. "Your son is dead. Don't think you can take my child."

Dixon blew his breath out, waiting for the explosion.

He should have known Jack better than that.

"No-one," he said, icily, "Could ever replace my son." _Especially not Carter's child by another man_. He turned and looked up at Shanahan, staring him in the face with the most implacable, 'Do not fuck with me' expression he had developed in his years with the Air Force. "Nobody's taking anything from you that you haven't already thrown aside." _Including a woman who is worth more than both of us put together._

"And what if I pick it back up again?"

"You're assuming she'd have you back." Personally, after the kinds of accusations Shanahan had been tossing around, Jack doubted anything would induce Carter to take this guy back. Even Carter wasn't that much of a masochist.

"She took you back." The sneer was calculated, and Jack stiffened for a moment, wishing he could turn around and slam his fist into Shanahan's face.

_Restraint, Jack._

It would feel damned good in the moment to turn and snap the guy's neck like a piece of balsawood. Funny how Carter had dated the man for four months, and it was only after she'd dumped him that Jack felt the violent urges breaking out.

"It's probably a good idea to get your facts straight before making accusations, Detective." Jack leaned on the professional rank. "And right now, you're walking a fine line."

The memories rose in his mind, of Teal'c's bandaged form, of Daniel's wrecked house, of his burned-out truck. He pushed them away. _You don't know that he did it._ Of course, he didn't know that Shanahan _hadn't_ done it either, only that if Shanahan continued in this vein much longer, Jack's instincts were going to get the better of his judgement and _then_ there would well and truly be trouble.

_It's complicated as it is,_ he reminded himself. _Don't make it more so._ And there was Carter to think about - Carter who was already struggling with the issues of her pregnancy and the father of her child.

Jack felt the urge to punch Shanahan grow that much stronger.

Thankfully, Dixon intervened. "The inestimable Detective Shanahan, I take it? Do you mind?" The edge in his voice was plain, and Shanahan was unsettled by the unexpected interruption. "We are trying to sit and have a _quiet_ drink here. Now, I understand that you have issues with my friend here, but frankly, so does half the Air Force and the Vice President of the United States of America. So take a number, and get in line."

Dixon, Jack decided, without a smile, had a very abrasive way with words. Add to that the muscular bulk of the younger Colonel and the way Dave could give people the impression that he was calculating just how much money you had in your wallet and whether he could take you out quietly...

Someone had once said that David Dixon had the look in his eyes of a thug who'd decided that the best way to beat others up was in a legit fashion and proceeded to join the armed forces. As jokes went, it was a pretty flat one, if frighteningly accurate.

One of Shanahan's companions murmured something, and it was enough to tip the balance. It was one thing to stand by while your mate baited another guy; but a pair of roused Air Force Colonels were another matter entirely.

"I'll have my kid one way or the other," Shanahan blustered. "You just remember that."

Jack wasn't likely to forget it. But he held his tongue and his temper as the cop walked away.

Then he dragged his hands through his hair and sighed. God, what a mess!

"I thought the Major had better taste than that," Dave muttered. "Guess even the smart ones get dumb sometimes."

"Yeah." And that was about all Jack was up to saying on the topic of Carter and Pete Shanahan right now.

He really hoped this behaviour in Shanahan was just the disppointment speaking. And hey, Jack could understand disappointment. He'd have felt the same way if his situation with Sara had been like it.

He just wouldn't have done to Sara what Shanahan was doing to Carter.

The accusations, the obsession, the uncertainty - it was getting to Carter, slowly and surely. Oh, she was blocking a lot of it out in preparation for the visit to Targonia in two days' time, but Jack was used to reading Carter in all her moods and tempers. Between her professional and her personal life, she was stressed.

It disturbed him to think that all this had come out of a couple of bad choices.

He wondered how deliberate Carter's choices were in the end. The words of Daniel's therapist friend echoed in his ears, "_Sometimes, a woman will make what she subconsciously knows is a bad choice, rather than face being alone._" Was that why Carter had taken up with Shanahan? To avoid being alone?

Or was it simpler than that? Was it just that she'd been in love?

In some ways, that almost seemed worse than the idea that Carter had made a bad choice to avoid the loneliness.

Jack didn't know what to think, what to do. Even without considering the possibility of Shanahan's involvement in the recent spate of misfortune for SG-1, he wasn't an unbiased player. Yet, in the face of Carter's pregnancy, everyone seemed to look at him as the person whose lead they should follow. For crying out loud, he was her former commanding officer, not her...not the man who'd... Jesus. He couldn't even _think_ it past his internal censors!

What did that make him?

"You know," Dixon said into the silence, "You could do yourself a favour and just admit it bothers you."

"What?" A moment later, Jack realised that the sense of _déjà vu_ came from having heard the same speech from Daniel only yesterday.

Dave's gesture was broad, encompassing a lot of things. "The whole situation. Major Carter's pregnancy, her ex's shenanigans, the way everyone's waiting for you to blow..."

Jack glared at Dixon. "What do you mean, the way everyone's waiting for me to blow?"

This time the silence was long. The younger officer stared at the table for a long moment then raised his eyes to Jack's. "It's not much of a secret when the only ones who aren't admitting it are the two involved," he said quietly.

Which pretty much put paid to the idea that nobody had noticed anything. Lovely.

"We're not... There's nothing..." How easily the denial fell from his lips. Smooth. Practised. Completely untrue.

Jack remembered the moment he realised Carter had a date - a hum-worthy one. He remembered the moment he realised he couldn't even dredge respect for the man she'd chosen over him, and how bitter the taste of defeat had been on his tongue. He remembered the drug-assisted relief as Daniel told him Carter had broken it off after the man crossed one too many lines for her liking. And he remembered the wracking agony, a torture as brutal as any he'd experienced in Iraq, as he looked at Carter and realised that she was carrying another man's child.

His mouth twisted and he didn't deny any more.

"Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration, too," Dixon said, somewhat apologetically. "Nothing's happened. I can believe that. But you guys are so edgy about it."

"And how do you know all this?"

"Jack, you know how the deal works. We're supposed to keep an eye on worrying situations. Monitor the people under us. Make sure rumours don't go wild."

In the background music, someone was chanting something about walking five hundred miles. Jack wondered if that was comparable to crossing several hundred light-years to look for someone amidst the ruins of an Alpha site, with no idea if they were alive or dead.

_Nobody gets left behind._

"So," he asked his friend, "What do you think?"

It was a calculated risk, asking the opinion a fellow officer - one who, in other commands, would be duty bound to report such a conversation to their superiors.

Dixon's jaw dropped. "You want to know what _I_ think?"

"Yeah."

"It's none of my business."

"Make it your business," Jack retorted. "You're already halfway into enemy territory, just come out and say it."

"Gotta say, Jack, you have a way with words," Dixon said with a snort. "Enemy territory?" He sobered a little. "You want to know what I think?"

"Didn't I say that?"

There was a long and thoughtful pause. "You care about her," the other man said bluntly. "Doesn't take a genius to see that. And it's not skin, either. But the way you guys behave, even professionally, says there's a shitload more going on in here," he tapped over his chest, "than either of you let on." He shrugged. "Never seen it noticeably impact your professional work. You're still alive, so is she, so's your team."

"She was going out with Shanahan." Jack tried to squash the pang of betrayal he still felt, thinking about Carter and Shanahan. Not his business. Never had been. Never would be.

"Situations change, emotions don't." Dixon paused, as if he was pondering something. Jack watched him, but didn't ask. If Dave wanted to tell, he'd tell; if he didn't, well, that was Dave's business.

Finally, the other man leaned over his beer bottle and met his gaze square on, without waver. "Bel and I went through a rough patch about seven years ago. It was nasty."

Nasty wasn't the word for it. Jack could read between the lines. He could see the way the memory still affected Dixon. His jaw was utterly rigid and the fingers were clenched around the glass bottle as if he were trying to break it. Whatever 'nasty' thing had happened, it had left deep scars on the other man.

Jack wondered if he'd looked the same while Carter was dating Shanahan.

"We got through it. Mostly because of the kids at first," he said, slowly. "But you know what it's like to...to care. Might be easier if you didn't, but that's not something you can help. You just...do." He shrugged, as if a bit ashamed of his confession. "And the situation will change again and it gets easier. You don't forget the hard time, but you don't actively remember it either. And you don't stop..." He glanced down into his beer glass. "You don't stop loving her."

Jack felt the truth of the other man's words like a bullet in his chest.

Yeah, Jack understood. He hadn't stopped loving her. He'd just...put it aside for a while. He'd sublimated it with Melissa. He'd ignored it as best he could.

But nothing had changed.

"You asked me what I think?" Dixon was watching him, and Jack shrugged a shoulder. "I think you're either mad or a saint to have kept your hands off her for this long. Probably mad," he added, smirking a little. "Cause a saint you definitely ain't, Jack."

Jack couldn't argue. He'd asked Dave for his opinion, half-expecting to have the rule book quoted back at him. He should have known better. Dave wasn't the type of the rules where they didn't fit. It didn't stop him from an acid retort.

"Gee, thanks."

"I tell it like I see it." Dixon gave him a long and measuring look. "So, you're not going to do anything about the Major's ex?"

"What am I supposed to do?" Jack asked, cynically. He felt a little irritated by Dave's expectation that he should do something about Shanahan. "I've already been accused of threatening him - although where he got that idea, I don't know..."

"You're a terrifying guy, Jack. I'm shaking in my boots here..."

"Funny, Dave. No. The guy seems to be a pro at digging his own grave. I don't need to do anything to help him in that."

"Now if only he'd dig it deep enough to bury himself in it completely," Dixon muttered.

The idea that Dixon was more intent on being rid of Shanahan than Jack was somehow amusing. "And here I thought Daniel was the one who hated the guy."

Dixon shrugged, "He didn't strike me as the type to be sympathetic towards."

Jack was willing to concede that. "It's not your business, Dave. It's not my business either."

And that was the end of it as far as Jack was concerned. No, he didn't like Shanahan; there were no surprises there. He'd found himself hard-pressed to respect the man, even on Carter's adoration. Perhaps there was no small amount of prejudice there, but for starters, it wasn't as though he spent all that much time in Shanahan's company; and secondly, it wasn't as though Carter needed his approval of her dates.

"And if it became your business?"

"It wouldn't." He met the other Colonel's gaze steadily. If Dixon said one more thing in that direction...

Dave had good self-preservation instincts. He changed the topic. "Hey, I heard something about Hammond calling a base meeting tomorrow morning."

"Yeah. Oh, and Daniel was looking for Balinsky earlier today. Cultural stuff about the Targonians."

"Cultural stuff. Figures." Dixon spoke affectionately, for all that his words were deprecating. While the more military-minded personnel made fun of their cultural and linguistic team-mates, most had found a happy co-existence on their various teams. It could make for some personality and mission clashes, but also for broader horizons - and some good teasing potential. "Balinsky nearly chewed my ear off when he first heard about the Targonians. I fobbed him off onto Wells."

"Hey, at least you weren't there when Daniel realised the implications of whatever the Targonians were going on about," Jack retorted. "Luckily for Teal'c and I, Peyton seemed willing enough to listen to him go on about it." He didn't add that if Carter had been part of the conversation, he would have been a bit more willing to listen to what was being said. He wouldn't have understood any more of it, but he would have listened.

"Ever noticed that they all seem to ramble a lot? Bosworth figures it's the academic thing. They gotta sound important, so they use a lot of words."

"Carter claims it's the thinking process," Jack told him. "Something about the type of mind that processes things in the foreground instead of the background. Logical vs intuitive - or some stuff like that." He'd been listening to Carter's explanation, he just hadn't remembered any of it. But it had made sense at the time.

"So which are we?"

"Intuitive, apparently." That was probably the bit which had confused him. "She said something about coming to the correct conclusion based on fragmentary evidence. But then she said something about Daniel being both intuitive and logical..." He shrugged. "I only understand half of what she says half the time anyway."

"I think that can be said of almost everyone on the base, Jack." Dixon shook his head. "We're gonna lose a damn good Major when she goes, Jack."

"Tell me something I don't know."

Dixon grinned, then glanced down at his wristwatch. His mouth twisted, "Okay, we'd better get out of here soon or we're going to be late."

Oh yeah, Dixon was whipped. Jack hid a smirk, and drained the rest of his glass. "Can't have that, can we?"

Out in the parking lot, Dixon paused. "Earlier, you asked how many people 'know.'"

"Yeah." He eyed the other man warily over the hood of the Rover.

"You'd go to hell for one of your team, Jack. That's common knowledge. But you'd do only marginally less for anyone on the base. And that's common knowledge, too." Dixon fished around in his pockets for the keys. "This is going to sound cheesy, so if you ever tell anyone I said this, I'll completely deny it. I have a reputation to keep as a hard-ass Colonel."

There was the momentary suggestion of a twinkle in Dixon's face as he regarded his friend. "The reason I, or Hammond, or any other man, woman or alien on the base trusts you is because, in a pinch, you'll do the right thing, Jack. That's what I know from experience. And what you feel for Major Carter, or your team, or anyone on the base doesn't mean shit."

Daniel had said as much once, a long time ago, after Jack had shot Carter to drive the electrical entity out from her. Jack had half-listened at the time, but dismissed it, too caught up in his self-guilt to really listen.

It was surprising how much more it meant coming from Dave. Not to insult Daniel, but the difference was that Dixon knew the kind of organisation the Air Force could be. He'd risen through the ranks in just the same way that Jack had, and he'd seen what could happen if the personal got in the way of the professional.

He knew the deal, both the military side and the personal side of things.

And he was saying that Jack had never yet crossed that line from Dave's obseration.

That meant a lot to Jack.

Once again, Jack found himself saying, "Thanks."

Dave smirked slightly. "You're welcome, Jack. Now get your ass into the car. Dinner's waiting."


	18. What You Don't Know 3

**Secrets and Shadows: What You Don't Know  
**

**Part Three  
**

_Thank God, it's Friday._

Well, she would have been thanking God if she believed in God. And she would have been thanking him if there was anything to thank him about. A migraine was not something that she considered high on her priority lists of 'things to be grateful for.'

The throbbing in her head was like the vibration of an F14 jet engine, an incessant, nagging pulse that had been there most of the morning. It was driving her insane.

She rifled through her desk drawers, looking for some medication: ibuprofen, tylenol, anything that might have an effect on the pain. Zip, zero, zilch, nada. Nothing but a Twinkie. She rested the Twinkie in her hand.

Strictly speaking, Twinkies were not appropriate medicine for headaches. But breakfast had been quite a while ago...

Oh, who cared? She was pregnant. She was hungry. Her ex-boyfriend had it in for her and her friends, and she had a Twinkie right here and a meeting in the Gateroom in less than ten minutes.

Sam stuffed the Twinkie in her jacket pocket as she ducked out the door, then wondered if she should maybe call Daniel and see if he had anything to help with the headache. Daniel was almost certain to be late, too, so he might still be in his office... Then again, if she let him know she had a headache, then he'd probably chivvy her until she went and laid down.

If _anyone_ knew that she was feeling just the slightest bit ill...

Lately, it seemed as though the entire base had decided that her health was their personal concern. Sam wondered whether it had been the Colonel or Daniel who had threatened something equivalent to immediate disembowelment if anything happened to her and someone else had failed to inform them of the problem ahead of time.

Any time she looked even slightly less than one-hundred percent on the ball, any time she hesitated in the corridor, whether it was because she'd forgotten something or realised she was going the wrong way, any time she lost her train of thought, there would always be someone there to ask, "_Major Carter? Are you okay? Should I call Dr. Brightman/Colonel O'Neill/Dr. Jackson/Teal'c/General Hammond_?"

Whose baby was she having, anyway?

_Uhh...Pete's?_

_Shut up_. Thinking about her ex-boyfriend and current problem was in no way condusive to easing the pain in her head. It made her sick to her stomach to realise just how much she'd underestimated him; his inability to cope with who she was, what she did, what made her the person she was. So much for true love and happy endings.

Sam cast her past mistakes away. She was going to be late to the meeting if she didn't get a move on.

Waiting out in the corridor, Sam began wolfing down the Twinkie, almost forgetting the headache in the sugar-rush. Of course, that meant that when the elevator arrived, she had a mouthful of sponge and cream - not exactly the most elegant way to appear when stepping into a confined space full of people.

Colonel O'Neill arched a brow at her, dark eyes taking in her full mouth and the Twinkie wrapper in a single glance. Sam fought not to colour at his smile. "Did you happen to bring enough for the whole class, Carter?"

Someone chuckled and Sam swallowed the mouthful to reply. "At the time I started it, the 'whole class' consisted of me," she pointed out dryly. "So, technically, yes, I did bring enough for the whole class..."

His lazy smile raised her temperature by at least a few degrees, and she carefully kept her gaze fixed on the elevator doors, maintaining what composure she could.

Was it just her imagination, or was the crackle of Twinkie wrapper very loud?

"Got your stuff all ready for the departure Sunday?" He asked as she finished another mouthful of Twinkie.

"Not quite. We're still working out which items to take along..."

"You can always dial back and get other items if you want."

"We intend to minimise contact with the SGC, sir. That means no coming back."

"And if you run out of Twinkies?"

Her amused exasperation needed no voice to communicate itself to him. And he, damn him, just smirked.

As the doors opened, the personnel in the lift separated, heading for their designated areas. Military and exploratory personnel were in the Gateroom, technical in the control room, and the scientific groups would observe from monitors set up in the briefing room. Those who weren't able to fit into any of the designated areas were assigned to specific recreation rooms where the announcements would be transmitted via closed-circuit television.

Whatever announcement was being made, it was a big one.

As they slipped in beside the other members of SG-1, Sam weathered both Daniel's scrutiny and Teal'c's regard from his wheelchair. By comparison, Captain Peyton's swift smile was a pleasant relief, without the weight of her former team-mates' concern behind it. She took her place, the Colonel standing to her left.

Then the General was walking up to the ramp leading up to the Stargate. "Attention!" Colonel O'Neill barked. The military personnel snapped to attention. Those few civilians present in the Gateroom were marginally slower to bring their heels together, but they knew the drill by this stage and what was expected of them.

General Hammond faced the room. "At ease." He looked around the room, his eyes resting various officers here and there as he began his prepared speech. "I have three announcements today. The first is a well-deserved promotion for excellence in the execution of duty." His gaze came to rest on SG-1, and the blue eyes twinkled just a little. "Major Carter, please step forward."

Sam stared, blinking. There was a moment when she nearly stopped to ask what was going on. She'd as good as resigned from the Air Force, effective when her child was born in another few months, why would they award her with a promotion now and under such circumstances?

It took Daniel to shuffle sideways and murmur, "I think they're playing your song, Sam."

She glared at him as someone in the background muffled a chuckle. Two steps took her out of the line as Hammond smiled down at her.

"Major Samantha Carter, for your efforts towards the greater well-being of the SGC, and for taking initiative above and beyond that required of your rank, I have the privilege of promoting you to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, by the authority of the United States Air Force. While an official ceremony will follow at a suitable time, where you will be formally presented with your new insignia, the rank with all its privileges and rights is effective today." His eyes twinkled, a blue faded with age and experience. "Congratulations, Colonel Carter."

Applause began behind her, probably started by the Colonel, although she couldn't actually tell. Her brain had stuttered to a halt after the first realisation that she was being promoted.

Instinct caused her to stand to attention and salute the general, routine taking place of actual thought. She felt just a little dizzied by the realisation that she'd made it to command rank. The General saluted her back, smiling broadly.

As she stepped back into place between the Colonel and Daniel, she felt him lean gently towards her. His low-voiced, "Well done, Carter," and the accompanying smile was all the approval she needed as others turned to her and offered their congratulations.

General Hammond allowed a few more seconds of applause before he began speaking again. This time, his words were slower and sounded as if they were being more carefully chosen. "My second and third announcements are related to each other, so this next part may take a little longer.

"When I first took up this post in Cheyenne Mountain, the Stargate was an artefact, covered with dust and sheets, nothing more. Nobody imagined its potential, certainly not me. Yet, today, I stand before it, in front of the hundreds of men and women who have not only imagined but experienced and developed its potential through the years." General Hammond paused a moment, his gaze ranging over the personnel in the Gateroom, before lifting up to the control room and briefing room.

"A few of you have been with the project since day one; we've witnessed how much things have changed - and how much things have remained the same. As many of us as are here today, there are equally many who began work with this project yet are no longer with us. Their memory is honoured as we continue with the work they contributed to, however large or small their part. It has been my privilege to command such dedicated people through the years." He paused for a split second, "Yet, all things come to an end."

Sam felt the room ripple in faint astonishment as his words sank in, but the General never hesitated. "I am retiring from the United States Air Force, and therefore retiring as commander of this facility, effective from the beginning of next month."

Perhaps the announcement shouldn't have come as such a surprise; the General had both the age and experience to know that he wasn't going to last in the job forever. He'd already been retired once, although that time the action had been imposed on him; maybe Sam had just gotten used to the idea that things would go on just the way they had forever.

Some things didn't change. Some things did.

Her own pregnancy was testament to that.

Out of the periphery of her vision, she saw Daniel lean towards her. His mutter was expertly pitched so only she could hear, "So which asshole General are we going to get looking after us now?"

"Daniel..." She reprimanded him in an undertone. Asshole generals or not, whoever they sent in to replace General Hammond would be their commanding officer, and due the respect of his position. Even if he was an asshole.

On the other side of her, the Colonel shifted, frowning slightly.

General Hammond continued. "Stargate Command is certainly no easy facility to run. It has been frustrating, and sometimes downright scary - but in the midst of all that, it has remained a challenging task to keep up with you, and work towards not only Earth's interests, but the interests of my people. I have tried to do my best by you, and would not feel comfortable relinquishing this command to someone who did not have your best interests at heart. However, it is my great pleasure to say that the commander who will be taking over the facility is an officer who will hold your interests and the interests of Earth far above the politics that other applicants for the position might have indulged in.

"It is my even greater pleasure and privilege to announce his promotion to the rank of Brigadier General, commensurate with the role and responsibility as base commander of the SGC." A surge of something akin to premonition swept through the Gateroom, flooding personnel as Hammond looked down at SG-1. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, please step forward."

Amidst the pleased mutters of astonishment, and the swiftly-muffled cheers, she heard Daniel mutter, "Shit," and spared a moment to turn and grin at his abashed expression.

The Colonel, by contrast, had no compunction about catching Daniel's eye, and his brow arched high in affectionate malice. None of his team had any difficulty in reading his meaning. _I'll get you later, Daniel._

If General Hammond had witnessed the exchange between Colonel O'Neill and Daniel, he paid no attention to it, instead stating. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, on behalf of the United States Air Force, and for your excellent command skills and the trustworthiness you show in commanding men and women of character and honour, you are promoted to the rank of Brigadier General." The General wasn't even trying to hide his grin. "As with Colonel Carter, your new insignia will be presented at a formal ceremony within the next few weeks, but the rights and privileges pertaining to the rank are immediately effective. Congratulations, General O'Neill."

The Gateroom - and probably the Control and Briefing Rooms - erupted into cheers and applause.

Amidst the noise of the ovation, Sam felt lightheaded again. Her headache, temporarily forgotten, reminded her of its presence with renewed vigour, and she only managed a congratulatory smile as the Colonel stepped back into line beside her.

"The hand-over ceremony will take place in two weeks time and will be attended by the President of the United States, as well as select members of the Joint Chiefs. You will be briefed as to the time and date." General Hammond looked out over the assembled people, "Dismissed."

"Do you think we could arrange for Kinsey's demise while he's here?" Daniel muttered, _sotto voce_.

Sam's mouth twitched in amusement, before people began crowding around her and the Colonel, smiling, laughing, congratulation them both and individually.

The next fifteen minutes was spent repeating stock phrases, and trying not to get dizzy with each subsequent question. "No, I never suspected. Yes, it's an honour. No, I don't know how General O'Neill will be running the base..." The people pressed in, their well-meaning concern crowding in on her, suffocating her, until she had to say, "Excuse me..."

She managed that much before the world around her went away.

----

"You should have said something," the Colonel - _General_ - said as they walked out to his rental car.

Sam didn't answer him. The headache of this morning was still bashing its wings against the cage of her skull. She could almost understand why primitive societies had believed that headaches were evil spirits which needed to be released from the mind by boring a hole in the skull. Barbaric as the custom might have been, there was a certain logic to it.

"Carter?"

She met his concern evenly, "It was just a headache at the time, sir. I didn't think it was anything to worry anyone about."

"We worry," he said, in the mildest tones of voice. "We worried when you fainted clean away in the middle of the Gateroom."

"Well," she conceded, "I didn't know that would happen at the time."

"Hindsight is always perfect, eh?" His sardonic question, surely rhetorical, struck her hard. There were a lot of things she would have done differently in hindsight.

She didn't address that thought, though, it had already run through her mind far too many times in the last month. "I could have driven myself home..."

"Correct," he said. "But Daniel wanted some coffee beans, and I have to go collect stuff from my place anyway, and you know the deal right now. We don't go anywhere alone." _Thanks to your ex-boyfriend._

Sam climbed into the Cherokee's passenger seat and glanced around the interior. Austere brown-grey plush furred gently under her fingertips as she gripped the edges of the seat and made herself comfortable. Her back had been aching a little lately - too much time spent hunched over her desk. Add that to the headache and she was one mighty uncomfortable newly-promoted Lieutenant Colonel. "I'm sorry about your truck, sir."

His mouth twisted as he started the ignition, "Well," he said mildly. "I was thinking that I didn't really need a truck that big... And the Grand Cherokee is nice." He indicated the overhead display showing the temperature and orientation of the car.

Sam hid a smile. For all that the Colonel...General made fun of her distraction with technology, he was as gadget oriented as the next man. "You don't really need an SUV this big either, sir."

"Probably not," he said as he put it into gear and headed out of the parking lot. "But it drives very nicely. And his actions have nothing to do with your decision, Carter."

The change of topic took her by surprise. "Sir?"

He glanced at her, very seriously. "His actions are his own. The way he chose to respond to your decision is his problem, not yours."

No names mentioned, but no need of names, either. She knew who he was talking about, and she'd been avoiding the topic all week. "Sir... I don't want to talk about it."

"You'll have to think about it sometime," he said, more gently than she would have expected from him. "You get a couple of weeks grace, but after that..." He trailed off. "And if he crosses any lines and we can prove it, we're not going to go easy on him."

"I wouldn't expect you to, sir." Sam looked at him, silently acknowledging that this had to be hard on him, too. "He..." She swallowed hard. "He'd have to deal with the consequences of his actions sooner or later." Silently, Sam hoped that the time away from Earth would give her the perspective she needed to deal with everything that Pete entailed. Because she'd need to work things out with him somehow - for the sake of their child.

Their child.

His and hers.

She remembered the relationship with no little pleasure, but a small sting remained - the bitterness of the knowledge that she'd been so obsessed with being in a sexual relationship again that she'd never noticed the other failings and issues.

_Sometimes life hands you lemons, and that's when you make lemonade._

Sometimes people came up with some really sucky clichés.

Sam directed her thoughts away from Pete. She'd spent enough time fretting about her mistakes over the last few days.

Besides, the stress was making the headache worse.

"What did you think of the Dixons?"

"She was lovely," she responded, thinking of Belinda Dixon's affectionate openness. The woman had invited three virtual strangers into her home and was completely at ease, even if they weren't. "Very friendly."

"The food was good."

"Better than your usual hotdogs?"

"Don't knock the hotdogs, Carter." A moment later, he added, "Although I haven't had real biscuits and gravy in...oh, years."

Sam smirked slightly, "You might have to wrangle an invitation a bit more often, sir."

"Oh, I'll just tag along when she cooks you dinner next time," he said, lightly.

The image that scampered through her head was frighteningly domestic; her and the Col...General standing on the front porch of Colonel Dixon's house, complete with baby carrier.

She winced. Colonel Dixon's family life had been something that Sam had long ago given up ever having: a touch of normality. And the occasional glances Sam had caught Dixon giving his wife...

There had never been a guy in Sam's life who'd looked at her in quite that way - someone who knew her inside and out through the experience of long years and the practise of hard commitment. And it made her envious of what Belinda Dixon had: not specifically David Dixon, but a man who knew her in all her faults and fits, and was still willing to help tidy up the dishes at the end of the meal, and spoon up behind her at the end of the night.

Glancing at the man driving the Jeep beside her, Sam sadly supposed that this was the closest she'd ever gotten to that kind of relationship. And that was forbidden and always had been. Even after she had the child and resigned from the military, it would still be impossible, with Pete hovering in the background, and her son or daughter a constant reminder that she'd given up on them first.

Something in her hoped he still cared about her like that. And something else laughed scornfully at the tattered desire.

Unconsciously, her hand slid over her belly, lightly feeling for the child within her. In the end, it didn't really matter whether he did care or not. Her control was too complete, and she'd never let him in that close. However much she wanted to.

"So, how do you feel?"

Surprised by the question, she could only stare at him. "What?"

"About the promotion?"

"Oh. Happy."

He glanced at her as they pulled up at a set of lights. "You don't sound so sure about that."

"I'm not," she admitted.

"Why not?"

"Why now?" She shifted, and saw him glance down at the hand on her belly. "I mean, in less than six months, I'll be out of the Air Force. Unlike everywhere else in the Air Force, most Colonels at the SGC are out in field assignments. I'll be one of the few exceptions." The inside of the SUV was silent.

After a moment, he spoke. "You got the promotion because you deserved it," he said at last. "That's all there is to it."

There didn't seem to be all that much to say except, "Thank you." She paused. "How do you feel about your promotion?"

It wasn't their usual kind of conversation, she supposed, but then, it wasn't their usual kind of day.

"Ambivalent." He glanced at her with a half smile, "Never figured they'd bump me up to General."

"You deserved it, sir."

"Actually, I don't know that I do, Carter," he admitted. "I have this feeling they only bumped me up to take the command. Hammond's recommendation."

"Did they have someone else lined up to take command of the SGC?"

"They had a couple of alternatives. Not bad people. Just not good ones either." And in his voice, Sam heard his reluctance to take on the role.

"You didn't want to take command?"

"Only an idiot wants a command like the SGC, Carter," he said, shortly. "I took it because the alternatives were worse." He didn't elaborate further; he didn't need to. They'd both seen commanders who would look at the SGC's purpose and think of nothing else; commanders who would see the potential for advancing their own political careers, while ignoring the very people who made up their command. The SGC was too enticing a plum for too many parties, and that General Hammond had managed to keep the SGC above water for so long spoke well of both his dedication to his people and his political ability.

"And no more SG-1."0

His mouth twisted as he paused at a four-way stop sign, "No."

They were silent for the remainder of the trip to his place.

Well, mostly. Sam's stomach grumbled as they drove into his street.

"I don't think I have anything left in my fridge that I'd trust enough to let you eat," he commented as they parked in his driveway. He looked at her for approval to move into her personal space, then flipped the glovebox open and took out a Beretta.

"Should I have brought my sidearm, sir?" She wasn't entirely alarmed at the presence of the weapon, given the state of Daniel's house, it was a reasonable paranoia.

He glanced at her. "Just in case, Carter."

There was no trouble going into the house, and the contents were intact. He shut the door behind her, and flipped the latch. Then he laid the Beretta on the table, holding her gaze as he did so. "If you want anything to eat, take it. Just remember that some of the stuff in the fridge may not be the freshest."

Sam nodded and began hunting through the pantry and fridge. Some crackers, a carton of milk that wasn't past its use-by date. A glance around the room showed there were apples on the coffee table in the centre of the living room...

Crackers, milk, and apples. Sam craned her neck, trying to determine if they were Jonathons, or Red Delicious. She wondered if she'd wandered back into kindergarten somehow.

Her stomach reminded her that, kindergarten or not, food was food, and right now, it could do with some. She poured herself a glass of milk, and took the box of crackers down to the living room.

She was just bending down to take an apple, when the baby kicked. Hard.

Sam gasped. The surprise and the headache contrived to unbalance her, and her hand missed the apples and crashed into the basket edge. Stainless steel pressed cold against her flesh, carpet dug into her knees, and her other hand went straight to her waist as apples cascaded to the floor, bruising their tender flesh, momentarily forgotten.

"Carter?" He was down the hall and kneeling in front of her before she could wave him away. "Carter, what is it?"

He had not meant to come so close, she realised later. But that realisation was distant from the scent and warmth of him, which itself was distant from the movement beneath her hand.

Her child. _Hers_. She'd felt the foetus shift before, turning restlessly as she tossed in her bed, but she never remembered it moving quite so definitely. _There_, a leg, and _there_, an arm; her son or daughter lashing out at the world around. A life was growing in her, filling her, changing her - and she'd never felt anything like it.

A glance up at the Colonel showed him staring at her. In the depths of his gaze, she saw a glimmer of understanding of what had caused her to pause; and the envious hunger of what she had. The urge to share the experience - the urge to share the experience with _him_ - was sudden and impulsive.

Sam Carter _never_ did sudden and impulsive.

One hand snagged his, and she pulled it to her waist, yanking up her t-shirt so he could more closely feel the movement of the child in her womb. "It's moving," she said, knowing that she must look like an idiot at that moment, but unable to cease her delight. She watched as his eyes searched her face, then dipped down to where her hand pressed his fingers against the swell of her belly, and felt the child move, twisting and turning to find a comfortable position.

Without thinking, she reached for his other hand, and laid that beside the first. His palm was hot against her abdomen, like a brand against her skin. The moment was both pure with the joy of motherhood, and sensuous with the awareness of his fingers against her.

Sam looked up at him, again, grinning fatuously.

And stopped.

He wasn't looking where his hands were pressed, although she still could feel the baby moving. Instead, he was staring at her, his face scant inches from her own. Dark eyes looked down at her with heated tenderness, and her mouth went dry at the naked longing in his gaze.

"Sir?" She managed through dry lips.

His tongue flickered out and licked his own lips, "Carter."

Questions shattered her joy, unwelcome intruders into the moment. Was she the object of desire, or was it the memory of his own son's birth that brought the passion into his expression? Did he see her or was he looking at a woman who resembled his ex-wife, Sara Mulholland, and seeing the woman who had borne his son?

Sam wasn't sure she cared to know.

But the tenderness in his eyes was more than even she could resist with his hands on her body and his face so close to hers.

In a deserted ship's corridor, in the labyrinthine tunnels of her mind, she'd fantasised kissing him. But she'd never actually felt his lips on hers, wanting her, however physical the desire might be. That simply, Sam had to know.

Before she could think about it, her body acted, pressing against him in an intimacy she had no reason to believe he would welcome. An intimacy that her rational mind screamed he would reject. Yet he responded.

Against her lips, his mouth was warm and hungry, and his hands slid over the skin of her waist as hers lifted to his cheek and his throat. Gently, he drew her in to him, their knees nudging aside the apples that had fallen to the floor and were now rolling around their legs, releasing a fruity aroma into the air.

There were reasons why they shouldn't. Reasons why they didn't.

But Sam reasoned that if he didn't want this, he could always push her away. He didn't. Instead, his hands lingered hot over her skin, as though he were blind and his fingers were his sight.

There were unanswered questions between them. Pete. Melissa. The baby she carried. The promotions they'd received. They were things that should have mattered.

Somehow, the only thing that mattered to Sam was the way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the taste of his mouth in hers, the ache between her thighs. And something in her was hungry for what he silently offered; a scarred man, but one who knew her, was well aware of her faults, and yet...

His hands still moved over the curve of her belly, spanning the breadth of her hip as though he could take her measure. And his mouth traced over her skin, silencing any protests she might have made - but gently, eliciting a response from her as her fingers crept up under the edge of his own t-shirt seeking the furnace of warmth in his flesh.

If he had second thoughts, he never spoke of them to her, but drew her down with him as if in a haze, and she went with him as if in a daze.

Then there was nothing but flesh and skin and hunger and heat.

And all around them, the scent of apples.


	19. What You Don't Know 4

**Secrets and Shadows: What You Don't Know  
**

**Part Four  
**

Jack was so screwed and he knew it.

His body knew it, too, as he sat on his couch and studied the carpet between his toes.

_...hot skin, salty-sweet, mouth open, lips parted, fingers clutching..._

He looked up, and his eyes tangled with hers, crystal clear, fire bright. Even as they'd eased down to the floor of the living room, he'd given her chance and chance again to back out, to withdraw, to change her mind. She hadn't.

Did that say something about him, or something about her? Jack was afraid to know.

_...soft touches, slow kisses, hushed moans, whisper-quiet, a long deep sigh..._

They'd crossed the line, and if things had been complicated before, they were inextricably tangled now. The irony of having finally broken the damn rules after seven years of holding fast, now that she was carrying Shanahan's child, on the day they both received news of their respective promotions...

Fate, as Teal'c would intone solemnly, was not without a sense of humour.

Carter was looking at him with a challenge in her eyes. They'd been silent since they sat down, he unsure of what to say, uncertain of what she wanted now that they'd done what they'd done.

_...he'd rolled them over, sweeping apples out of the way, and she was poised over him, every curve exposed, every secret revealed. One finger ran down his chest, from the hollow in his throat to the point where their bodies met..._

"Do you regret it?" He asked, and although he knew he'd spoken softly, the words seemed to resonate through the room with all the force of thunder.

Her mouth curled, proud and fierce. "Do you?"

_...lip clung to lip, passion and tenderness in their communion, an understanding they never dared to breathe out loud was given voice in another language..._

"No."

Tension drained out of her, leaving her limp, and him startled. "Carter?"

Her mouth trembled as she looked away, then down at her hands. "I wish..." Almost inaudibly, she murmured, "I wish it was yours..."

_...his hands rested over the swell of the baby, and he looked up at her face, seeing the brief flash of fear that crossed it, then bent down and brushed his lips over her belly. Madonna and child, alluring and frighteningly erotic..._

Jack's fists clenched in his lap. "It's a bit late for that," he said, bitingly. Then he cursed beneath his breath as she flushed. "Carter...I don't regret it, but...but today has to be an aberration. We can't do this again..."

"I know," she murmured, and the sadness in her voice blew him out of the sky. "I'm sorry about..." She looked at him, then looked away, "I forgot about Melissa..."

So had Jack. He ran a hand through his hair. _God, this is so fucked up..._ "I..." There were words he needed to say, things he had to clear up, lines he needed to redraw between them. For her sake, because he was desperately afraid that he would take anything she let him - and desperately afraid that she would let him take anything he wanted. "Carter, you're hormonal, right now. Everything's changed so fast for you - and Shanahan's being a bastard..." He regretted mentioning either her ex-boyfriend or the scenarios he'd produced. "I shouldn't have..." He took a deep breath, "I should have stopped you. Walked away."

He should have walked away years ago, from the moment that he realised how important she'd become to him. Instead, he'd stayed, and she'd stayed, and everything between them had only gotten more complicated with each twist of fate.

Her next words shocked him with their anger and their bitterness, "Does that mean it was a pity fuck, sir?" Spots of colour flashed high on her cheeks, before she closed her eyes in embarrassment. "I... I didn't mean..."

"You know me better than that, Carter," he told her softly. "I would never do that to you." _Or me._ "I said I didn't regret it. I didn't intend for it to happen, but it did."

The colour didn't fade from her cheeks. "And now?"

Now they had to work something out. "Do you regret it?"

She snorted and her mouth curved in a mocking smile, "What do you think?"

He was going to take that as a 'no.'

"If..." Carter hesitated, and her cheeks flamed red. "If you could have this afternoon again...knowing what was going to happen, without thinking of the consequences...would you?"

_In a heartbeat._ But he couldn't say that. "There are always consequences, Carter."

"Yes or no?" There was a bleak desperation in her expression, and Jack could only imagine what it cost her to sit there and essentially bare her soul to him, risking his rejection or condemnation. Something was demanded in return - some form of reparation.

"Yes," he said, knowing his own cheeks were flushing. "Without consequences, I'd..."

_...take her slowly and gently, holding his body up as his hips sank deeply into her...use his tongue on every part of her body until she screamed for him...lie on his back and watch her ride him as his fingers clenched on her thighs..._

"Yes," he repeated, softly, and was rewarded with the heartbreaking relief in her eyes.

It stunned him to think that she might believe he didn't or couldn't want..._love_ her.

"Sir..." She winced, presumably at the use of his title - the title that still stood between them. "I'm still retiring from the Air Force when my child is born. Could we take a raincheck?" Carter plunged on, but the knuckles of her clasped hands were white. "Wait until the baby is born, and then...see where everything goes?"

There was an assumption in there that Jack badly wanted to hear stated outright. The assumption that she wasn't going to go back to Shanahan; that her relationship with him was over and done and the ashes scattered to the wind.

Given Teal'c's stay in the infirmary, the insurance reports Daniel was still filling out, and the rental Grand Cherokee out on Jack's driveway, it should have been obvious that she wasn't going back to the other man. And yet something in Jack wanted that confirmation so badly, he could almost taste it.

Instead, he noted. "But if you want to come back and work at the SGC..."

"The first time Daniel went through the mirror, he spoke of a world where you and I were engaged," she said, her eyes fixed fast on him. "He was the commander of the base, she was the Stargate expert. They made it work."

"What about your reputation?"

She shrugged, "With all due respect, sir, once I'm out of the Air Force and back working at the SGC, it doesn't matter what people think. We've been professional for the last seven years..."

"And people are going to say you slept your way..."

"...up the ladder," she finished for him. "They already say that." At his outraged look, she clarified, "Kinsey?"

He couldn't argue with that. Kinsey had made his accusations plain enough the last time they'd met.

"The only thing is..." She paused, and momentarily folded in on herself, as though she were shutting something bright up inside her. "You might not want to be known as the commander who screws his people."

Jack looked at her, at the hesitancy she displayed. Give her a problem to solve and she'd solve it, give her a mission to achieve and she'd accomplish it, but doubt her, and it was harder to break than a Tollan's resolve to withhold technology. "Carter, I've kept my hands off you for four years because of _your_ career, not mine."

"But now you're the commander of the SGC..."

"I took the job because there was nobody else to do it!" This morning, he'd been all ready to decline the promotion, and then Hammond had handed him the files of the alternatives. Not one had seemed like a man who would look at the means as well as the end.

Jack couldn't allow a bad commander to take over the SGC. It went against the grain.

And if Carter wanted this... Well, he wouldn't be throwing out the position anytime soon, but he wouldn't much care what people thought of him and Carter, either.

"It doesn't matter," he dismissed, referring to the role of SGC commander. "That's not what's important to me. It never has been.

"I... Carter," he didn't know how to say this; he'd had little or no experience in charming women. "I still... Some things have changed between us." His helpless gesture took in her pregnancy, "And some things... At least on my side... I couldn't..."

He hadn't been able to stop loving her. Like Dixon had said; the situation had changed, but the essentials had not. He might not be able to act on it, but when had he ever?

Finally, he spoke again. "I'm willing to take a raincheck," he said, lightly. Then, because something in him demanded he acknowledge the possibility, "You might change your mind before then..."

The rest of his words were lost in her mouth, and his hands found their favourite curves without any prompting at all. When she let him up for air, he could do nothing but stare at her and pant as she traced her finger along his lower lip. "No."

He knew his mouth was curving in a smile, probably a fatuous one, and he leaned forward and kissed the fingertips against his lips.

The sensuous haze that clouded her eyes was like a drug. Jack wanted more, but he didn't dare take it.

Instead, he settled her back in his lap, and slid his hand under the hem of her t-shirt to the slight arc of her belly. A glance up showed her apprehension.

"I wish it were mine, too," he said, very gently. "But it's still his child." This would be the hardest part for her; navigating between him and Shanahan. And if his behaviour lately had been any indicator, Shanahan wasn't going to make it any easier - on her, or on Jack. "It won't be simple," he said, trying not to feel jealous at this part of her that the other man claimed - and always would, "But I will _try_ not to make it harder on you."

It was the best promise he could make.

He almost regretted having her tell Shanahan about the kid. Almost. Jack might never be a father again, but he didn't want to be the one denying the experience - at least part of it - to another man. The detective would just have to deal with the fact that he might get access rights to his child, but the mother was off-limits.

"Thank you, sir."

Jack arched a brow, "Sir?"

She flushed, but held his gaze defensively. "It's a habit."

"One you'd better get out of," he murmured. "Eventually." Then he hissed. She was moving on his lap, very distractingly. "Carter..."

_It's just the hormones making her do this. Just the hormones. Oh, God..._ He winced, _If it's the hormones making her do this, then what kind of excuse do I have?_

"Sam," she reproved him.

"Sam," he grated out, correcting himself through gritted teeth, as she shifted again, and parts of him began to respond. _Aberration, remember? _"I'm nearly an old man," he reminded her forcefully. "And I'm trying not to take advantage here..." _But if you don't stop that, I'm going to lay you down on this lovely soft rug here and screw you senseless and my better nature can go to Netu._

Of course, she didn't stop. But she did lean down and brush her lips against his.

Jesus, whatever hormones she had in her should have been extracted, bottled and sold as an aphrodisiac.

God knew that Jack wasn't immune to it. He didn't see how any man would be.

Several breathless minutes later, his discomfort was increasing and he regarded her through narrowed eyes. "Did you hear what I said at all?"

She leaned in to him, a slightly wicked smile on her features. He'd seen her wearing that smile before, back when it had been safe to flirt. He hadn't yet seen her wearing nothing _but_ the smile, but his imagination was already... _Better nature. Better nature._. "Yes, Jack," she murmured, "You're getting old and trying not to take advantage." Her eyes twinkled at him. "Just out of curiosity, sir, _would_ you ever take advantage?"

He moved the hand on her stomach a little higher, stroking the underside of her breast with one finger and watching her eyes kindle, before retreating back down to her stomach. "I'm tempted, right this moment..."

Her lashes fluttered down as she pursed her lips, "Today was an aberration, right?" Now her fingers were playing lightly over his fingers on her abdomen, and Jack wanted to sigh. He would like nothing better than to pick her up and lay her down and...

But he wouldn't. He would do the good and honourable thing and put a rein on his desire.

"Yes."

A moment later, she had the hem of her t-shirt in her hand. Two moments later, it was up, over her head and tossed away on the floor.

For some reason, unknown to Jack, it seemed that she'd decided to forgo the underwear stage of dressing when they were reclothing themselves.

Jack gaped. "Carter..."

She took his hands and slid them up her body, and his fingers curled around her of their own accord. _You're a dirty old man, Jack..._ "It's still the same day," she said. Her eyes gleamed. "It doesn't count."

She was the clever one. And he wanted... God, he _wanted..._

"Well," he managed as her fingertips slid into the throat of his t-shirt and curled around his collarbones. Electric desire slid down his chest and coiled achingly in his groin. "If that's your logic..."

Jack kissed her until she had no breath left, then hauled them down to the floor, and _made_ it count.

----

There were better uses for Sundays than spending them on base.

George Hammond fully expected to be spending tonight at his son's house with his granddaughters. However, this morning, he had come into the base to see off Colonel Carter and her team. The all-female team had departed just before 1000 hours for Targonia, amidst two FREDs and assorted technical equipment.

In spite of the unusual nature of this mission, only a handful of base personnel had come to see the departure. Technicians and off-duty SFs, and half the Research and Technology Department had been there. Even a couple of the Archaeology and Anthropology staff had peered in, possibly hoping to be co-opted last-minute to go on the mission. No such luck. The four officers had vanished into the wormhole, and only the Colonel turned back with a brief smile for her team-mates.

SG-1 had naturally turned up to see her off, even though Dr. Jackson looked as though he would much rather have still been in bed. There had been some tension for a few moments, when it appeared that the Colonel was taking umbrage at the Doctor's inquiries after her health, but Jack had sorted that out with his usual aplomb.

As George walked into the commissary, he noted that Dr. Jackson looked only a little more awake now than he had three hours earlier, in spite of what appeared to be the copious appliation of coffee.

"General," he greeted Jack. "Doctor, Teal'c."

"Oh George," Jack said, looking up from his newspaper and gesturing heartily, "Don't stand on ceremony, we're all Generals here..."

Teal'c's eyebrow lifted, but apart from a quiet, "General Hammond," the big man said nothing more, but ate his meal steadily, and turned the pages of his book. A book on pregnancy, George was both surprised and amused to notice.

"Afternoon, General," Dr. Jackson said, propping himself up on one elbow and a hand.

"You look like you could do with some sleep," George noted, and saw Jack's roll of the eyes.

"His fault for being up until 0400 hours watching 'Shogun,'" he said, without sympathy.

"'Shogun' was playing in the background," Dr. Jackson protested. "I was reading up on the thirteenth century Japanese culture."

"Sure you were," Jack retorted.

George didn't quite frown, but he eyed the newly-promoted General sitting beside him. There was an ebullience to Jack that was uncharacteristic of his recent behaviour. If he didn't know better, he'd think Jack had achieved some kind of epiphany over the last few days.

In another man, George might have attributed it to Jack achieving Generalship; but he'd nearly had to strongarm the man into taking up command of the facility. It wasn't the promotion.

It was a real puzzle.

Not one that George intended to think upon too hard. This sure beat the stiff, reserved mood of earlier this week, when Jack's truck had been stolen and burned out. Still...

"...no rest for the studious," Jack was telling his friend. "I thought we'd break Teal'c out of the mountain and go up to Garden of the Gods for the afternoon. Change of scenery, run wild and free, get out of the mountain..."

Fortunately for George he was saved from having to dampen Jack's enthusiasm when Dr. Jackson paused with his coffee mug halfway to his mouth. "Jack, that might not be such a good idea..."

"And why might that be?"

Dr. Jackson's eyebrows drew together as his tone of voice turned sardonic, "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps because of the reason we're staying in the mountain in the first place?"

Jack frowned, and not just at the sarcasm. "It's just out for the day, Daniel. Perfectly safe." He looked at George. "Right?"

George sighed. "That was what I came up here to tell you." Now they were all ears. "It seems that Detective Shanahan has been...keeping an eye on the facility. In the last few days, the guards stationed down at the entrance to this facility have noticed the same car driving past several times a day every day. It's been identified as Detective Shanahan's private vehicle."

"Looking for Carter."

"That was what I thought. However, his behaviour has raised flags at the NORAD base, and on Friday afternoon, I received a call from General Ettigan. He said that the Cheyenne complex will be putting in a formal notification to the Denver Police department, noting Detective Shanahan's presence outside the complex, and wishing to know if there is anything that we, professionally, should be informed about."

The matter of lurking around the Cheyenne complex was, if not something totally illegal, _per se_, still a matter to be brought to the attention of Detective Shanahan's seniors for notice.

"That seems a little...excessive," Dr. Jackson observed. George noticed that Jack was staring down at the paper with a carefully bland expression.

"It's not exactly standard operating procedure," Jack said, looking intently at his superior officer.

"No, Jack, it's not." George knew what question was really being asked; _Was this being done to protect SG-1_? Well, it was and it wasn't. It would set a precedent for Jack to follow when George was gone and the Detective continued to make a nuisance of himself; and it would keep SG-1 and Colonel Carter out of the issue - at least from the view of the Denver Police.

"However," he continued without a break, "considering that Detective Shanahan has knowledge of the SGC, any behaviour of concern to the complex is under the juridiction of the US Air Force and associated bodies."

Dr. Jackson winced. "So when did this 'notification' go through, then?"

"It's going in tomorrow morning," George informed them.

"And it's probably not a good idea for us to leave the complex until after then, right?"

At Jack's grimace and glare at Dr. Jackson, George realised that the two men were quite opposed on this matter. Not the first time and certainly not the last time.

"We can take care of ourselves, Daniel."

"I'm just saying that it might be a good idea to be...cautious. Staying in won't do us any harm - it might do more good than harm in fact..."

"You just want to stay in with those translations SG-5 picked up last mission." Jack had the irritated and irritatingly superior tones of a man who felt he'd just divined the secrets of the universe and had nothing left to do. "I saw you cajoling Hennesey for those notes..."

"Actually, Jack," George interrupted, "I would personally feel better if you - and Dr. Jackson and Teal'c - remained inside for the next couple of days."

"Inside?" Jack looked as though someone had just asked him to sing karaoke on the ramp in front of the Stargate. "_In_ the mountain? Not even out on the slopes?"

George hesitated.

"What are the odds he'd manage to get past both the perimeter fence _and_ the complex fence, _and_ find the trails, sir? Really?"

It was almost more bother than it was worth to argue with Jack. On the other hand, it was Jack's life and the lives of his team at stake...

"I'd say it's better safe than sorry. However, you are an adult," he regarded the forty-something officer before him with a droll expression, "And a General."

Teal'c made a noise suspiciously like a snort. However, there was no change on his face.

"Heaven help the SGC," Dr. Jackson muttered.

Jack was non-plussed, but George grinned, "It's only in his hometown that a prophet is ignored." He levered himself up off the chair. "Whatever you decide to do, Jack, Dr. Jackson, Teal'c, have a good afternoon."

He left them bickering about respect and the degrees of it that would be due Jack as commander of the SGC. Good men, for all that they played loose and easy with the rules.

George hoped that this whole business with Detective Shanahan would ease up. The man wasn't going to get Samantha Carter that way he'd probably first hoped, and he was going to have to deal with her team-mates hovering around her.

And in the meantime, it was a damn shame to have this hovering over SG-1.

George shook his head and went to his office to collect a few bits and pieces before heading up to the surface. He had a couple of girls to see.

----


	20. What You Don't Know 5

**Secrets and Shadows: What You Don't Know  
**

**Part Five  
**

Sunrise on Targonia was spectacular, to say the least.

Even Haley hauled herself out of bed to take the disc to the top of the complex and watch the sun rise over the waterfalls. Of course, it was only the third day of the mission; by the end of it, they might very well prefer to sleep in rather than see the sunrise.

Sam wasn't tired of it yet, although she was rather tired. The tiredness was her own fault for forgetting the time and staying up until past 'ninth chime' to study something. The woman who'd been working with her had been similarly engrossed in their work, and was horrified to discover it so late when Peta Meridian came looking for Sam.

As Sam yawned in the pre-dawn cold, Peta turned to the woman beside her. "Beth?"

"Yup?"

"If the Colonel's not in bed by the time we get into our room, we go out and find her."

"Roger that."

Sam caught Jennifer Haley's smirk, before the young woman cleared it from her face and put on a 'butter wouldn't melt in my mouth' expression. "Is this a conspiracy to look after me?" Sam demanded, rhetorically.

Her team-mates exchanged glances, and Sam suddenly realised that the question wasn't quite as rhetorical as she'd thought it might be. "Peta...?"

The Major rolled her eyes as the warning tone, but began an explanation. "See, it's this way, Sam. It's Saturday night, I've just finished the final notes on the remote dialling device, and I'm headed to my quarters. I'm in the elevator, on my way down to quarters, when the elevator stops at nineteen and General O'Neill gets on with a tray full of desserts."

"Uhuh."

"And I...uh...made a smart comment."

Smart comments were Peta's specialty. Sam wasn't surprised. "Uhuh."

"About him taking good care of you."

She knew the temperature of her voice dropped by about sixty degrees. "You did, did you?"

"Uh, and then he said that we'd better take care of you while you were here on Targonia, because if we didn't, then he and Teal'c would...uh...take care of us." There was a pause. "I think he was kidding. Mostly."

Sam remembered the dessert run. He'd stayed up with her, watching her as she packed and asking questions as he perched on a chair in her lab and when, past midnight, her stomach started rumbling for food, he'd gone to get 'some food' and returned with enough to feed him, her, Teal'c _and_ Jonas, if Jonas had still been in the SGC.

She also remembered that evening for the intimacy of the way they related. Their conversation was mostly professional, as always, but after Friday... Sam fought a blush away in the cold Targonian pre-dawn. After Friday, there was an intimacy that they'd never had before. Although he didn't touch her, the way he looked at her had been personal enough for her to look up from what she was doing, meet his gaze, and blush like she was sixteen, instead of more than twice that age.

"It might be difficult for General O'Neill to realise that I am a grown woman and capable of looking after myself..." She began at her driest.

"Aw, Sam, he's just concerned about you," Peta said, lightly.

"With good reason," Beth added. "You're not exactly known for looking after yourself when you get into something."

"_And_ you're five months pregnant."

"As if I didn't know that," Sam muttered. She kept herself from a further biting retort by turning to Haley, standing quiet and smiling to one side. "And do you have anything to add to this, Lieutenant?"

The young woman tried to stifle her smile. "No, ma'am." The demure reply was quite out of character for the usually feisty young woman. "But I agree with them."

"That I'm pregnant?" Sam inquired, dryly, resting one hand on her stomach.

"That you're well-known for getting so involved in something that you forget about your body's needs," Haley said, smiling. "And while the Targonians have set the remotes to monitor your condition, I can't see General O'Neill, Teal'c, or Dr. Jackson accepting any excuses we make about why you returned to Earth exhausted. Even if it was a world of technological discovery."

It _was_ a conspiracy.

Sam shook her head and sat back on the seat that the four women had appropriated for the dawn. Directly across the ravine, the waterfall thundered its eternal song of churning power. Thousands of tonnes of water cascaded down the steep side of the cliff every minute, and when the wind was gusty, the spray could carry all the way across the gap.

From their vantage point at the top of the complex, the sun would rise over the waterfall at dawn, and the cascading drops would splinter the sunlight into a myriad shifting rainbows. The first morning, Beth had watched with her mouth wide open, and then pulled out her ubiquitous notepad and begun scribbling, all the while muttering things about refractive indexes and atmospheric conditions.

"Are we going to take Yukio up on her offer of breakfast this morning, Colonel?" Peta inquired, arching a brow at Sam. "Those ramen-noodle thingies look a lot better than beef stroganoff MRE. Smell better, too."

Sam grinned. They'd brought their own supplies; enough to comfortably last them the full ten Targonian 'days' of the diplomatic mission. However, after four meals of MREs, and when the natives were eating what looked and smelled like perfectly edible food, the soldiers had begun looking at the other foods available to them. "If you want to risk it, then you may."

"If we're going to be paranoid about it, it would probably be best if we didn't all switch to Targonian food at once," Lieutenant Haley suggested.

"Why, Haley! Are you offering to stick with the MREs while Beth and I try exotic new foods?"

The Lieutenant grinned. "I've never been a fan of Japanese food."

"They're not Japanese - they're Targonian."

"Several thousand years' difference," Haley shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

"Several thousand...?" Beth threw her hands up in mock-exasperation. "What do they teach Academy students these days?"

They were just getting into teasing the youngest member of the team, when one of their hosts approached them. "Colonel Carter?"

Sam looked up at the Yukio's smoothly expressionless face. "Yes?" Then she saw the men standing beyond her, and stood up. "Sir?"

"Carter." His expression was stiff, and she felt dread grow within her, spreading cold tendrils through her limbs, and winding close around her heart.

"What happened?" The question was slightly breathless, and he glanced around the place, looking for somewhere that he could talk to her with some measure of privacy.

She was barely aware of the other women moving away from the chair, giving them space for a while. Her whole being was focused on him and the reason for his presence here, the expression on his face that spoke of bad news. Oh, God. Had someone found out about Friday night?

He hesitated, as if unsure of how to break the news to her.

"Just say it, sir," she said, and steeled herself for the blow.

"Shanahan's dead." It hit her like a sledgehammer, shattering her composure in an instant.

"Dead?" Sam breathed. Her hand was at her waist in an instant, and she felt the baby shift a little at her distress. _No. Not Pete. Not dead..._

He eyed her, standing close in her personal space, as if telling her intimate news - or being prepared to catch her if she fainted. "Mugged," he said, and in his face was all the regret of the messenger bringing bad news. No, the news wasn't personally distressing to him, but he was aware it would hit her hard. "They think it happened Sunday night, found the body early Monday morning..." He grimaced and looked away and down. "From what they would tell us, it was...fast."

"From what...? When did you find out? How?"

"Monday morning," he said. "As for how... General Ettigan was going to lodge a complaint with the DPD about Shanahan hanging around the gates and making a nuisance of himself." His hands rested lightly on his P-90. "They called up and the Chief told them the news..." He paused. "I'm sorry, Carter."

Sam sat back down on the seat, staring blindly out across the ravine to the cold grey shadows of the cliffside.

Memories - good and bad - poured into her mind, fragments of what seemed like another life, another time.

The way he'd openly admired her, seen her as a woman and not just a soldier or colleague, the expression on his face after they'd made love - sweetly teasing, his belly-shaking laughter as she sat beside him and watched cop movies, the silly, 'romantic' things he'd done for her in the early days of their relationship, slow dancing until midnight...

Storming out on her that first morning after they'd made love, sulking when she didn't let him have his way, doubting her abilities as a soldier, refusing to see that she just wanted some distance from him, not that she didn't care about him...

Standing in her hallway with jealousy written plain across his face, wanting to know if the child she carried really was his...

No, she wasn't in love with Pete Shanahan anymore; but she had loved him, however briefly and inadequately.

Someone sat down beside her, not touching her, but mirroring her pose, perched on the seat, hands gripping the edge. She felt the heat of his body radiate out towards her, so warm and vital - unlike Pete, who lay cold and dead in a morgue back on Earth.

She blinked and felt the trickle of tears sliding down her cheeks. One hand reached up to brush them away, and the man sitting beside her neither moved to help her, nor offered her a kleenex. He just sat there and watched her until she was ready to meet his gaze. When she did, she saw guilt and an apology in his dark eyes, as well as concern for her.

"Do I..." Hesitation seized her, "Do I need to go back to Earth... Is there anything that...that has to be arranged...?"

He shook his head. "He has a sister who's the next of kin. She's doing the arrangements." He paused. "Unless you want to go back for the funeral. We can find out when it is..."

"I..." Sam paused, trying to find the words to describe everything she was feeling at that moment, a conglomeration of so many conflicting emotions that she couldn't identify any single one. "I'd rather..." she flushed, and wouldn't meet his gaze. "I'd rather stay here."

For a moment, she didn't want to look up and see what he thought of her decision. Then she forced her eyes to meet his, and saw understanding there. "If you want to stay, then stay. If you want to go back for the funeral, that's your decision."

She carefully smeared away the last chilly tear-trails from her cheeks. "I...I think I need to concentrate on this right now." Sam didn't add that the focus on her work would block out the more devastating of her emotions. She'd always used her work as a buffer between her and her feelings.

Just look at how she'd dealt with Jack O'Neill.

He nodded. "I'll let Hammond know," he told her.

Without a word, and very slowly, Sam leaned in towards him. She hadn't done this more than a handful of times in all the years they'd known each other. And there had never been witnesses. Maybe Teal'c. Once. But otherwise...

He moved his arm back, making room for her to lean into his side. And when she pressed against him, using the warmth and scent and presence of him as a repellant for her distress, his arm rested over her shoulders.

They'd sat like this that afternoon, after the second round of pleasure given and received. After sex, she'd wanted to be close to him, to preserve the intimacy that they'd finally accepted that day. So they'd sat on the couch, in physical contact with each other as they tried to work out where they were going from that moment onwards.

"_I won't ever _like_ him, Carter._"

"_I know, sir. I won't expect... You just need to get along._"

"_Enough to make things bearable on you?_"

"_Yes._"

"_I'll be civil,_" he'd said at last, "_I can't speak for Daniel or Teal'c. Just as long..._" The pause had been marked, and she'd looked up at him in time to see a wave of scarlet colour his cheeks, "_I don't share well._"

He wouldn't have to 'share' at all, now.

"Sir?"

"Carter?"

"Did you...?" As soon as even that much was out of her mouth, she regretted it. He couldn't hide the tensing of his body from her at this proximity.

Still, his words were controlled. "Is that what you think of me?"

"No," she murmured, honestly. "I shouldn't have..." She tried to sit up, but his arm didn't budge.

"No," he replied. She heard the intensity of his anger and regret. "You shouldn't have."

"I'm sorry."

She felt him shift towards her, kiss the top of her head, and stiffened. "They're discreet," he murmured into her scalp.

Sam nodded, and rested her hand near his knee for a moment. Contact and contact as the sky grew pink, and gold began to streak the clouds in the east.

The grey shadows turned dusky pink, and then yellow-gold, and the sun's rays crested the edge of the ravine and the lip of the waterfall opposite them, and the world burst into rainbows around them.

"Pretty," Jack murmured in characteristic understatement.

Sam smiled as the sun crept higher, and the twinkling light and colour danced around with effervescent vivacity. "Are you going to stay the whole day?"

"Four hours," he said. "All we were authorised to stay. We have permission to knock Daniel out and carry him back through the 'Gate if necessary."

She chuckled lightly at that. "I'm glad you got to see the sunrise."

"Even as the bringer of bad news?"

Her laughter stilled and faded. "Even so."

Pete was dead. Whatever his good or bad points, he was dead. Through no fault of hers or anyone she knew, he was dead. And life moved on.

Life. Her child. Pete's child. A small fragment of immortality in the child they'd made.

Mourn the dead, but don't let it interfere with life. The man who sat beside her was alive, and for that much she could be grateful.

The rainbows faded into bright sunlight that spilled over the gardens and trees of the walkway, like molten honey.

"Four hours?"

"Yeah," he said. "General's orders."

"You're a General."

She knew the answer before he even said it. "He outranks me."

Sam lifted her face to the sunlight and closed her eyes against it's brightness. "There'll be lots more sunrises," she murmured at last.

He didn't have to ask what she meant. He just brushed his lips across her head again. "Yes."

----

"General."

Jack looked up from his rental SUV, squinting against the cloudy brightness of the sky before he slipped his shades on. "Agent Barrett."

The NID agent's eyes gleamed slightly in acknowledgement of Jack's wariness. "I'm surprised to see you out of the mountain."

"I'm surprised to see you at all," Jack said. "Don't you guys have invisibility cloaks or something?" Maybourne in particular seemed to have this ability to appear and disappear out of thin air. And God knew Simmons had been an expert at turning up in the SGC - usually at the least-helpful moment.

But it was definitely a surprise to see Barrett in the Wal-Mart parking lot in broad daylight, dressed in civvies instead of a suit, and looking as ordinary as the next guy.

Barrett smiled in acknowledgement of Jack's parry. "Detective Shanahan's crusade against you and your team..."

"He's dead," Jack stated, baldly. He could find very little regret in the fact, but nobody expected him to be shedding tears about Carter's ex-boyfriend. "But you should know that." He watched the bland expression shift slightly. "And you _do_ know that."

Inside the SUV, the groceries rustled in their plastic bags, and Jack spared a glance to make sure that nothing heavy was squashing the bread. "What brings you here, Barrett?"

"Just a friendly visit, General," Barrett said. "To let you know that the Denver Police Department is willing to drop any and all investigations into you, your team, Major Carter--"

"_Colonel_ Carter," Jack corrected him.

"--Colonel Carter, or your workplace."

Jack frowned, "And whose soul did you blackmail to do that?"

Barrett's eyebrows rose, "What makes you think we had to blackmail anyone?"

"We?"

There was no answer to that one, just an infuriating smile. Behind the concealment of the SUV body, Jack's fingers flexed. There was probably a class at the NID academy called 'Pissing Off 101 - How To Really Infuriate Members Of The Armed Forces With Your Attitude.'

"You might like to know, though; Detective Shanahan's death is timely. He was making inquiries about the profile of your organisation."

"Not the first time."

"No. But this time he was looking into the Cheyenne facility as a body, not Carter as an individual."

It began as a tiny tendril of possibility, then exploded into a full blown blossom of understanding. "You had him...terminated," Jack said. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He'd never liked the guy, but he'd never have killed him. At least, he didn't think he would have.

"You jump to conclusions very easily, General," Barrett chided, mild as a lamb. "Detective Shanahan was also looking at having Sam declared unfit to keep a child."

_Oh, it's 'Sam' is it, now?_ Jack's eyes narrowed. "Proof?"

"Proof is a relative thing, General." The agent shrugged, "And desperate times call for desperate measures."

A car roared by, some kid's souped-up motor drowning out all other sound for a few seconds. It gave Jack a few precious moments to think.

"You think Shanahan was that desperate?"

"I think that it's a good thing Colonel Carter is...out of town for a few days."

Which was no answer at all. Jack frowned and opened his mouth to demand why Barrett had turned up, but was forestalled as the Agent spoke again.

"Your relationship with Colonel Carter is unique." Pause. "In fact, her relationships with all the men of SG-1 are unique, if it comes to that." Pale eyes regarded Jack levelly. "Dr. Jackson is very protective of her." Jack frowned at that. What did Daniel have to do with any of this? But Barrett didn't seem inclined to elaborate. "I'll be keeping one eye on the Colonel in future. General health, possible dangers..."

Teal'c had intimated that Barrett had a thing for Carter. Jack had never seen it - before. With a faint pang, he wondered if this was going to be the rest of his life; wondering if every man who looked at Carter fell for her like a paratrooper without a parachute.

His knees twinged in memorial sympathy at the simile. Jack winced and decided to interrupt. "Agent Barrett, is your interest in Colonel Carter's well-being personal or professional?"

Barrett stopped, and smiled. "That depends."

"On what?"

"Is your interest in Colonel Carter's well-being personal or professional?"

_Touché._ Jack grimaced and didn't answer that question. It was obvious that Barrett already knew the answer.

"I'll be seeing you around, General," Barrett said, pulling out a set of car keys and unlocking the Lincoln in the next parking space. His gaze rested on Jack, calm and intent as he slid into the seat. "Take care of her."

The car was started and reversed out in a fluid movement.

And then the agent was gone.

Jack drove home slowly. There was no danger in leaving the mountain now that Shanahan was dead.

He was well aware that, as far as motive went, he was the prime suspect. And it made it all the more necessary that he and Carter were utterly circumspect in their behaviour towards each other - at least in the next couple of months.

Once she resigned from the Air Force...

More than the sex - powerful as it had been - Jack remembered the way she'd curled up against his side and rested her cheek on his shoulder as they talked about their future. _Their_ future and her child's.

"_Are you..._" He felt her tense against him, her urge to push him away. "_Are you going to continue seeing Melissa?_"

The words were neutral, her feelings about the matter were not. "_I'm a one-woman man, Carter,_" he told her, a little stiffly.

"_Does this afternoon count, then?_" The question wasn't arch or teasing, just a question, with a thready hint of fear in it.

In answer, he kissed her breathless. "_It counts,_" he told her.

Jack drove home in the flat grey afternoon. By now, according to Targonian time, she would just be at the midday meal. Assuming she remembered to eat of course...

Two weeks.

And Barrett knew about him and Carter - as in _really_ knew.

Jack wondered if this was getting out of hand. Daniel had confronted him on Sunday afternoon, after Hammond had gone. Privately, of course, but still. Teal'c had said nothing about the matter, but then Jack didn't figure Teal'c to be an idiot. And if Teal'c hadn't known before, he certainly knew after this morning on Targonia.

None of the women had seemed particularly surprised, but then, Peta Meridian was a know-it-all, Beth Reeve was a big gossip, and Jennifer Haley had a way of watching people that suggested she saw a lot more than she let on. But Daniel felt they were trustworthy, and Major Meridian had taken the time to reassure him on that point. "_Our lips are sealed, sir,_" she said as they followed Daniel and Teal'c out of the 'disc' and across to the Stargate complex. When Jack gave her a hard look, she met it blandly.

So one more set of co-conspirators.

And Barrett.

He pondered Barrett's place in this whole situation all the way home. It wasn't until he'd unpacked the groceries that he realised that Barrett hadn't answered any of Jack's questions.

**End of 'What You Don't Know'**


	21. Epilogue

**Secrets and Shadows**

**Epilogue**

There'd been blood everywhere.

Jacob couldn't remember if Mark and Sam's births had been this bloody - or this painful for Thea.

_Childbirth is always a messy and painful process,_ Selmak reminded him as he removed the healing device from his hand, and handed it off to one of the SFs.

They were moving Sam's unconscious form off the gurney and onto a proper infirmary bed, complete with heart rate monitor and IV drip. Dr. Brightman seemed to think that neither Sam, nor the baby was in any immediate danger, she felt that the new mother was merely tired out by the fourteen hours of labour, but wanted Sam under supervision nevertheless.

_Just as well we were here to help,_ Jacob said. He tried not to shiver at the thought of his little girl bleeding her life away. As it was, the birth had taken a lot out of her, and she lay on the bed, eyes closed, sleeping. _Too damn close..._

Jack was arguing with Dr. Brightman, his hands cradling the spluttering newborn with all the protectiveness of a father. "Brightman, don't argue with me in this. She wanted the child to..." There was a slightly embarrassed pause, "You know..."

"Breastfeed."

"Yeah. She wanted to do that immediately after the birth." Jack spoke with a lot more authority than the 'friend' he still claimed just to be.

"Might I remind you, that Colonel Carter..."

"_Doctor_ Carter," Jack corrected.

"...is significantly weakened from the birth. Breastfeeding is not an activity..."

"She. Wanted. It."

Dr. Brightman - it was so strange to be in the infirmary and not see the familiar, tiny form of Janet Fraser striding about the room, Jacob mused - drew herself up. "General..."

"Doctor, this isn't a discussion."

"I could override you, you know."

"It's no longer a medical emergency," Jack said, and there was no mistaking the relief in his voice. Then he glanced around the room, "Uh, you might want to clear out..."

Infirmary staff wheeled their trolleys out, as Dr. Brightman looked Jack in the eye, "Did you want to put the child to her breast, or would you rather I do it?"

A bright flush tinged Jack's cheeks, but his response was firm. "I'll do it."

Jacob had a momentary vision of his hands wrapped around Jack O'Neill's throat, General or no General. _Jacob,_ Selmak reminded him, irritably, _If you do that again, I'm going to take control of this body and not let go until after we have left Earth. These violent impulses of your are more foolish than trying to negotiate safe passage through Baal's territory by bargaining trade goods._

Which were strong words, coming from his Tok'ra.

There was a click of heels, as Brightman came up to him, "General Carter, I leave him to your tender mercies."

Jacob hid a smile as the door shut behind the last of the personnel. It was just Sam, Jack, and himself now.

_And your newest granddaughter,_ Selmak reminded him.

"Thought you'd want to leave."

Jacob came to stand on the other side of the bed from his pale, sleeping daughter. Jack had carefully unlaced the maternity gown, and attached the tiny girl to her mother's breast. One hand held the infant in place, the other rested lightly on Sam's wrist, almost out of her father's sight.

In the year since the Tok'ra went into hiding, so much had changed in her life. And Jacob hadn't been there for any of it, abandoning her...

_We had other tasks that needed doing. Samantha understood that._

"I haven't spent much time with Sam in the last year," Jacob pointed out.

"It's a bit difficult when you and a bunch of other people are hiding out from the System Lords," Jack observed. "We don't get that option."

The SGC had to sit 'in plain sight' as it were, a continuing target of the Goa'uld's wrath. And Jacob had always kept his eyes and ears open for news of the 'Tau'ri' from which he had come.

"You've been doing a good job, Jack," he said at last.

"I have good people to work with," came the simple reply. Jack regarded Jacob. "And a good incentive." The younger General looked back down at the baby girl. "Even more incentive now."

It was difficult to watch the way Jack O'Neill looked at Sam, it put Jacob too much in mind of some old pictures of him looking at Sam's mother. Instead, he focused on his granddaughter. Tiny, blonde-haired, blue eyed; perfect. "Does she have a name?"

Jack looked up, "Emma."

"You already decided on it?"

"It would have been Brendon if it was a boy," Jack said lightly. He looked from little Emma to Jacob. "So, has the urge to ribbon device me into next month faded a little?"

"A little." Jacob's first reaction to Sam upon his return had been to stop dead and stare in shock. An ungainly eight and a half months pregnant, there had been no doubt about her condition. The second reaction had been to turn to Jack and demand exactly what the man thought he was doing. "You're not home free, yet, Jack."

_It would not hurt to be a little less severe on the General, Jacob,_ Selmak chided him. _He loves your daughter._

_He shouldn't._

_And you shouldn't blame him for what he cannot control._

But that would be logical. _And you are not inclined to be logical?_ Selmak didn't bother to hide his irritation with Jacob. _From the sound of it, General O'Neill will be a far better partner for Samantha than the man who fathered her child. However 'against regulations' you believe their relationship to be._

Emma appeared to have finished her dinner, the tiny face had turned away from Sam's nipple, and she was stretching and looking around her with large, blue eyes.

"Carter's eyes," Jack noted as he handed Emma over to Jacob. "Hold her for a minute."

Carefully, Jacob took hold of his newest grandchild, supporting the swaddled bottom and the oversize head. He jiggled the baby once to settle her firmly into his grasp, then moved away from the bed.

And was startled as he felt the resonance of naquadah in his granddaughter's blood. It was weaker than the resonance he got from Sam's presence, but it was definitely there.

_Interesting,_ Selmak remarked. _There have been many speculations as to whether the child of an ex-host would have any sensitivity to naquadah. It seems that they do._

Emma stared up at him with her big blue eyes. Jacob had this sudden memory of holding Sam in his arms in such a way, some thirty-something years previously. "Hey there," he said softly, as a little fist stretched out and the little mouth opened to full capacity in a huge yawn. "How're you doing, little one?"

It was decades since he'd held a baby this young. When Mark's kids were born, Mark and Jacob hadn't spoken for years, so Jacob missed the youngest years.

_Will I have to miss this one's infancy?_ He asked Selmak, knowing the answer even as the question left his lips.

_If you know the answer, why do you ask?_ His symbiote replied, but with sadness. _Our duty requires us to leave in a few days. It was pure serendipity that we could come when we did. The Council is still not secure, and the factions are growing ever deeper._

Emma seemed to be considering her grandfather thoughtfully, blinking doe-eyes up at him. Her lashes were long and perfectly curved. In fact, everything about her was perfect. "Someone's going to be beating the boys away with a stick in sixteen years," Jacob murmured. He glanced over at Jack.

Jack was looking down at Sam with an expression of tenderness on his face. If he'd heard anything Jacob had said, he wasn't showing it. Instead, he was resting one elbow on the side rails of the bed, and holding her hand.

"...had me worried there for a bit. Thought you might leave Em an orphan - a bit unfair on her, don't you think?" It didn't escape Jacob's notice that Jack didn't mention his situation if Sam had died.

And Sam shifted in the bed, turning her head towards him. Her lips curved up in the tiniest bit of a smile, "She'd have you," she mumured, the words barely making it out of her mouth. Then she opened her eyes briefly, before the lids drooped. "Emma?"

Jacob brought Emma back, and laid her in the crook of Sam's arms. "She's beautiful, Sam."

"I know." Her voice was the faintest vibration, barely audible over the humming of the monitors. Her gaze rested on Emma, doting, then flickered up to Jacob. "Thanks, Dad."

He crooked a smile at her, "I'm glad I was here," he responded.

She crooked a smile back, then looked over at Jack. "Sir."

"Carter."

That seemed to be all that needed to be said between them, for her lids drooped, and she fell asleep with her daughter in her arms, Jack holding her hand, and Jacob watching them in the peace of the infirmary.

**---- THE END ----**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **And so ends all things. It's been a long journey, and I couldn't have done it without the friends and betas: Denise (denise1), Abby, Amy, and Allie. Tah, girls, ever so!**  
**

**FINAL NOTE**: Thank you very much for making the long journey with me - I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, let me know! And before you start asking for a sequel, save your breath. There won't be any. Ever.

Sel (17th Dec, 2004)


End file.
